


Support

by onecanary



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Bisexuality, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, F/M, Female Homosexuality, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecanary/pseuds/onecanary
Summary: Cloud and Aerith are teenage orphans who confide in one another while living in a rehabilitation facility.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 96
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love shamelessly reading cute, fluffy love stories of Cloud and Aerith. But, these poor babies have been through a lot and sometimes I get in a mood where I feel like writing angsty sad things.

**CLOUD**

"Cloud? Tell me more about that."

I tell her about how I watch my mother die as the flames engulf her every time I'm alone with my thoughts and close my eyes. I've already said too much, and I don't want to talk about it anymore, so I say nothing. 

She sighs, as she always does. Leaning towards me, pressing her long thin fingers on my knee. "This is a safe place," she tells me, flashing a yellowing grin. She asks me if I'm making friends, and I wonder if she has any. She tells me children experience a lot, and some are not able to cope or grow from it, and that's where I'm at now. I wonder what she was like as a child. 

I imagine her psychoanalyzing everyone she knows. I imagine her telling her mother it's a safe space as she cries because they grew up poor. She shares these insignificant details of her childhood with me. This is a bonding method to build rapport. She hopes I'll understand that all children experience pain and heartbreak. 

For a moment, I wonder if she's right, but then I smell my mother's burning flesh and hear her piercing screams. I see Zack's body convulse and drop to the ground as blood spatters and spills like a fountain, the pop of gunshots still echoing. I watch as my next-door neighbor blames me for her parent's death and tells me she hates me because I'm the one who found her father. She calls me a parasite and tells me people can't help but die when they're near me. 

Marle sighs again, leaning back she checks the clock behind her and clicks her tongue.

"Well, that's all our time for today. Go make some friends."

I've been in group homes since I was fourteen. I'm government property, until I'm eighteen, as no legal adult can claim me. Two separate foster homes. Four foster parents. They all sent me back and said I make them nervous, and they would rather not have me around their children. This doesn't bother me. Watching their perfect lives, I feel like destroying it all. I don't like feeling violent. So, a pretty, young woman comes to talk to me back at the group home. She's wearing a pantsuit, and her perfume smells expensive—another hand on the knee and a light squeeze. 

"There's a facility nearby. You would only have one roommate," she tells me. I grab my bag and walk out the door, curling up in the front seat of her car. I have one photo of my mother, it's singed at the top left corner, ironically burning into bits of her hair. They weren't able to salvage much from the fire. I think a few kitchen knives and bathroom toiletries. The police handed me the burnt photo and a medal I had won for placing first in a spelling bee. He smiled at me as if a burnt photo and a crappy medal were adequate replacements for my mother and our home. She's in her twenties in the picture, and she's beautiful. A mess of matching platinum blonde hair sits next to her. Our cheeks pressed together. Her eyes have disappeared from smiling so wide. 

I miss her, and I hate it when I miss her because I can't remember where we were in the photo or who took it. All I can remember is the smell of burning flesh, and I feel sick. I know it wasn't my father who took the photo. Mom said he died before I was born. He didn't even know I existed; she tells me. She never tells me how he died, and I stop asking. I suppose he could still be alive for all I know, and I wonder if he knew about me if he would let me stay with him. I wonder if I look more like him or mom.

**AERITH**

The bangles on both wrists cover most of the cuts, but the longest still pokes out beneath. Damaged goods, my foster brother would say to me as he groped me in my bed late at night. A worthless orphan that no one will ever love, he says. His mouth smells and tastes like cigarettes as he buries his tongue in my mouth. Your parents probably killed themselves on purpose, just to get away from you, he says. 

Elmyra asks how we're all feeling in our girls' group meeting. Clara says she ate an apple for breakfast, and we all clap and congratulate her. Her lips are chapped, and her knuckles scraped from driving her fingers down her throat over the toilet. Denise tells us she spoke with her mother on Sunday, and they hugged and cried because her father is in jail for tax evasion and won't be able to touch either of them again. She cries as the girls next to her rub her back and kiss her head. 

When everyone looks at me, I tell them I feel great. I'm happy and excited for the future. I hear a few scoffs and suppressed chuckles as Elmyra tells me that's a great attitude. After group, Denise and her friend Margot shove me hard and tell me I'm fake and pathetic. They tell me I don't belong here, and I smile at the thought of not belonging here with these people. 

Clara is my roommate. She promises not to tell anyone what really happened to me, and I promise not to tell anyone that she hides her breakfast under her bed. 

"Did coke make you really skinny?" She asks me during one of our first conversations, as she juts out her bony chin in the mirror, examining it for fat. 

I shrug and tell her I think so, but it's an expensive diet. I never paid for it with money. But my foster brothers' friends tell me it's expensive as they hold a vial out of my reach, unzipping their pants and forcing my head down between their legs. I don't tell Clara this. I don't tell anyone this. Because it makes me sick that it was my choice to drop to my knees, and I feel sicker when I think about how I would quickly do it again if a vial were being held in front of me now.

One of his friends who only insisted on grabbing my boobs and taking photos of them told me I could be pretty if I wasn't trash. He tells me I'm beautiful when I'm completely naked in his backseat underneath his camera lens. I smile as I hear the shutter click over and over. If anyone ever found those photographs, he would be in prison for possession of child pornography. His mouth is on my neck as I take a bump off his car keys and moan loudly, so he doesn't charge me for the vial we share in his car. 

I don't remember my father. He was killed when I was a baby, my mother used to tell me. My mother was beautiful. Really beautiful. So beautiful she had caught the attention of a man she didn't even know. He broke into our home and shot my father in the back. My mother tells me she remembers watching him gasp and bleed out on our kitchen floor. He points the gun at me, and my mother screams. I start crying, and he comes to hold me in his arms and tells me I'm his precious girl. My mother begs and pleads that she'll do anything. 

He brought us to an old bunker where we lived until I was eleven. The man would take my mother away every morning, and I would cry in our tiny shared room on our small twin bed. He said we had to help each other because my mother and I were special, and we could lead him to 'The Promised Land.' He never explained what The Promised Land was. My mom told me he was very ill, as she cradled my head against her chest until we fell asleep. He always called me his precious girl and gave me candy before leading my mother out of our room. 

One morning my mother shakes me awake and tells me I need to be very quiet and do everything she says. I tell her I'm scared because she's frantic and she tells me I need to be brave. The sunlight bit at my eyes and skin as we crawled up a small stairway. The fresh air was overwhelming as we hurried down a small street, and I hear tires screeching behind us. He jumps out of the car and yells at my mother. He tells me to come with him and that he loves us more than anyone will ever love us. 

My mother pushes me aside and runs towards the man as he shoots her in the neck. I watch her gasp and bleed out on the ground, just as she had watched my father do. The man tells me he loves me, and I'm his precious little girl as he presses the barrel of the gun to his temple. I wake up in a hospital. I ask the nurse where my clothes are, and she tells me I wet myself, which is normal for a situation like this, and I ask her how normal this situation is. She smiles sadly and sneaks me candy. 

My grandmother picked me up and held me all the way to her car. She tells me my grandfather died searching for us, and there's a special seat in hell for that bad man who did this to us. But I think about the candy and how he told me I was beautiful and precious. I loved living with my grandmother. We would garden all day and do puzzles together at night. She taught me everything there was to know about gardening and flowers. When I would wake up screaming, my sheets soaked with sweat and urine, my grandmother would rush through my door and hold me tight until I stopped crying. She would help me wash in the tub and change my sheets and tell me how important I was and how brave I was. 

I lived with her for two years until one afternoon, I stood in her doorway and asked if I could go to a movie with some friends from school. She was sitting up facing away from me, so I repeated myself, and she never answered. I called the police and watched as they carried her out in the ambulance. 

**CLOUD**

My roommate's name is Ryder. He reminds me of Zack, but he's much shorter, much shorter than me, and I'm only 5'8. He asks me what I'm in for like we're swapping prison stories. I tell him I'm not sure, I just think no one else wanted me. He nods and tells me he's addicted to heroin because he watched his best friend shoot himself in the mouth. I tell him I'm sorry as I unzip my backpack. I know he's watching me unpack because he comments that the closest mall and stores are twenty minutes away. He invites me to the dining hall with him and introduces me to his friends. 

I don't remember their names, but like Ryder, they ask why I'm here. Two of them were alcoholics, never able to process their parents' divorce. The girl had been molested by her father since she was eight and throws up everything she eats. She tells me I'm cute, too cute to be here, and she asks my name. I still don't remember what she told me her name was, and I can't stop thinking about her telling me I'm cute, because no one has ever told me that and it makes me uncomfortable.

The four of them laugh and joke about one of the teachers here as they copy each other's' homework before class. From Monday to Wednesday, we have classes from 9am to 12pm – math, science, and English. At 2:00pm, every day, for the first six weeks, I'm scheduled to see my personal therapist, Marle, for an hour. She tells me I have PTSD, and I mutter, 'no shit.' She tells me my emotions and reactions are normal. She touches my knee and makes eye contact a lot, and it makes me uncomfortable, but I don't tell her this, because I'm sure she'll have an explanation for why it makes me uncomfortable. 

Three days a week, we're to attend group meetings – there are co-ed group meetings and single-sex group meetings. We're also encouraged to participate in seminars explaining how to deal with stress and how to lead 'normal' lives outside of here. Tuesday night, I'm in the dining hall sipping on a coffee and working on math homework, settled in a booth out of view. It's quiet, aside from the hums of the TVs and conversations around me. Someone's voice echos in the tunnel, growing louder the closer she gets. She's singing "Piece of My Heart," both lead and backup vocals. She's no Janis, but it makes me smile anyway. She has thick, wild honey brown curls that reach her tailbone. She's wearing a dark red sweater that falls over her shoulder and white shorts. She's tall and thin, and her ears poke out from beneath her hair. 

No one turns to see where the sound is coming from, and I assume that's because this is a regular occurrence, but I'm still watching her when she glances over at me and smiles. I look down quickly, even though I know I've already been caught. She continues singing as the woman behind the coffee counter calls out, "Aerith," in a disciplinary tone. The girl continues, humming softly and waves at the woman who scolded her. I glance up with my eyes and see she's headed directly towards me. I try to act busy, focusing on my homework. 

"Heya," she says. Her voice is bright and gentle. She sits across from me in my booth. "I don't recognize you." 

"Hm," I respond without looking up, "I get that a lot." 

Her laugh is soft and genuine. "I doubt that," she says. She bites at a cheese stick she's holding and asks if I want any. I shake my head. She's beautiful, and she smells nice. 

"I like your freckles," she tells me, "You don't see enough blonde-haired blue-eyed boys with just the right amount of freckles."

She doesn't look sad, and I wonder why that is, and I wonder how I look to her. She comes over to my side of the booth, sits down, and faces me. She presses her thumbs against my cheeks and asks if I would ever hurt her. When I tell her no, she asks if I want to see her naked, and I tell her maybe someday, if she wants me to. She cries and presses her face against my chest, and I sit there and let her do it because I'm not sure what else to do and because now I know she seems much sadder than the rest of us. 

She tells me her name is Aerith, and she watched her mother die. We have this in common. When I tell her about my mother she tells me she's sorry and that I'm beautiful. There are two dormitories – girls and boys. We're not supposed to be in the other dorms after curfew, but lots of times boys sneak out, or girls sneak in. I hear our bedroom door creak open one night and watch a sliver of light appear. The door closes softly as Aerith whispers it's just her. 

She climbs into my bed under the covers, and I say nothing. She kisses my neck, and I'm not sure how to react because I've never been kissed. I tell her this, and she says I'm sweet as she pulls at the strings of my pajama pants and slides her hand down my underwear. Her hand feels good on me. Really good. But I know she's not doing this because she cares about me. She's doing this because she thinks she has to, so I grab her hand and hold it in mine. Most nights, we fall asleep like this. 

**AERITH**

Here's what I like about Cloud: he's quiet, and he listens. When I talk about sex, his cheeks turn pink, and he looks away and bites his lip. He listens as I tell him all about flowers, and he asks me to show him someday. He's pale. Paler than me, which I didn't think was possible. His eyes are an impossible hue of blue surrounded by light freckles. His hair is wild and wondrous. Soft blonde tendrils poking out in every direction, and I want to run my fingers through it. I show him the scars on my wrists, and he doesn't say anything. He just holds my wrists in both his hands and kisses them. I wonder what kind of sounds he would make as I'm blowing him and what he would feel like inside me. 

I tell Elmyra this during our private sessions, and she tells me I don't have to move so quickly. I tell her I don't feel like I am. I never loved my foster brother or any of his friends. I never even liked any of them. But I like Cloud. His voice is strong but soft, and his hands are gentle, and I laugh when he grazes me accidentally and apologizes for it. But Cloud is beautiful. He's broken now, but he'll be fixed, and he'll leave, and he'll find some beautiful woman to marry him. She'll have his beautiful babies, and he'll forget all about this place and all about me. I was just a strange time in his life. His beautiful wife will console him late at night as he tells her how he used to share a bed with a girl who was fucked up—a girl who was trash. 

I nuzzle my face into his neck one night as his arm is loosely wrapped around me. He's snoring softly, and for a moment I wonder if I could have this. I wonder if I even deserve this. His hand twitches against my hip, and I think he must be dreaming. His breathing grows louder and shortens. He chokes himself awake and flings himself forward. When he realizes I'm still beside him, my arms wrapped around his torso, he apologizes. He looks embarrassed, and it makes me sad. Because someone as beautiful and perfect as Cloud should never feel those things. I tell him it's okay, and I kiss his arm and wrap my arms tighter around him and clasp my fingers together. Looking straight ahead, he asks me if I think he's a parasite. I kiss his arm again and think about how I want to hurt whoever would tell him something like that. 

We've known each other for months now, and neither of us has seen the other naked. I tell Elmyra this, and she smiles and high-fives me. I gush about my crush on Cloud like were schoolgirls, and I feel happy. Truly happy. I tell her how I want him to kiss me, and I'm nervous he won't like me back. She tells me times up, and she's proud of me for doing so well today, and I remember where I am. I'm in therapy with my shrink in a home full of unwanted, unloved fucked up teenagers. 


	2. Chapter 2

**AERITH**

On Sunday's we can have visitors if we have anyone to visit us. Because Cloud and I have no one but each other, we walk along the path down to the falls as I scribble in pen on his arms. Once, I covered both his arms with flowers and constellations, and everyone stared at him when we got back, and I was so proud of him because he didn't say a word. He just smiled at me. I wait in our usual spot, and he doesn't show up. Clara asks if I want to go shopping with her because she's been good; she's gained two pounds, so this is her reward, and she can bring a friend. Our facility is tucked away behind rows of trees, and if you didn't know what you were looking for, you would probably never notice it. There is nothing for miles. It's mostly industrial. 

A twenty-minute cab ride will get you to the outdoor outlet mall, where Clara and I go. We stop to grab smoothies, and she changes her mind last minute and says she's too full, which I know isn't true, but I don't push her. There's comfort behind the trees and walls of our facility, but I like being out in public too. Mothers smile at us as we walk by because we look like their daughters, and maybe we're just two teenage girls shopping together after school. After this, we'll go home to our parents and siblings and text our friends and the boy we like as our parents scold us for not doing our homework. 

I've seen it in movies - You wait anxiously for the boy you like to text you back. Your heart leaps when you look at your phone and see his name. Maybe you hold hands in the hall at school, and he asks you to be his girlfriend. You hang out after school and meet each other's parents and families. As you're kissing, he tries to put his hand up your shirt. You ask him to stop and slow down, and he does. The first time you have sex, it's awkward but wonderful, and at the end of the night, you go home to your warm bed and squeal with your girlfriends about how you're not a virgin anymore. 

These mothers don't know that Clara hasn't kept anything in her stomach for months because her father used to touched her a lot. Her mother didn't believe her, and she stopped eating because she said it was the only thing she could control, and instead of helping their daughter, they sent her away. These mothers don't know that the first time I had sex, I was thirteen years old and when he asked if I get my period, I shook my head and could barely see because I was crying so hard. He told me I was beautiful and he was happy I hadn't had my period yet, so he could come inside me. 

These mothers don't know how many dicks I've had slammed down my throat, and in their defense, I'm not sure anymore. Less than 10 but more than 5. They don't know that my roommate was jealous of me because I weighed 82 pounds when I was admitted. Not because I had a problem with food, but because I loved feeling weightless when I was high on cocaine, and I craved the drip in the back of my throat when I was only fourteen. These mothers don't know that at seventeen years old, the only times we don't scream or choke ourselves awake is when me and a beautiful blonde boy hold each other in his twin bed. 

Clara asks if she can pick out some clothes for me to try on, and I smile and nod because I know this will make her happy, and she has such a beautiful smile. She tells me she wishes she could be as happy as me. She says she's never seen me in a bad mood, and I'm always bright and bubbly. I smile and laugh and tell her to pick out some clothes. 

She comes back with a handful of dresses and skimpy crop tops and short shorts, and I humor her and try them on. She tells me I'm thin and pretty and tells me to get them because Cloud would like them. 

"Have you told him you love him yet?" She asks me as were in separate dressing rooms changing. 

"No!" I laugh, "it's not like that. We're just good friends. We understand each other, I guess."

She tells me to be careful and to use protection because Mallory, her roommate before me, had sex with a boy there, and she got pregnant, and they kicked her out. 

I tell her it's not like that with Cloud, and I wonder where he is today and why he never showed up. After I've changed into a crop top that accentuates my flat chest and shorts that are so short you can see my ass, I laugh and hop out of the dressing room, telling Clara I look like an actual prostitute. She doesn't answer, and I knock on her dressing room, and she's crying, and I ask her to unlock the door and hold her while we rock together on the floor. My scars in full view in the floor-length mirror, and I'm reminded what we really are. The cab ride home is quiet and Clara thanks me for coming with her and I smile at her and thank her for inviting me. 

Behind the rows of trees, Clara pushes through the front doors and says she needs to be alone for a while. There's a tunnel that connects the female dorms to the cafeteria that's made entirely of glass. When I first came here, I used to sneak out of my bedroom at night and lie on the ground watching the stars through the treetops. Once, when Cloud and I snuck out, we laid on our backs in the tunnel underneath the stars. He pointed at each of the trees and told me the names of them. I asked how he knew so much about trees, and he laughed and told me he didn't know anything about trees, and he had made it all up. We laughed so hard it echoed throughout the entire corner of the facility.

It's been eleven months and fourteen days since I met Cloud. I'm not keeping track; I just remember the day because it had been two years since I'd snorted coke and two years since I'd been sexually active. Elmyra gave me a pin that said 'Superstar' and a sucker and told me this is the only thing I should be sucking, and she kissed me on the head and told me she was so proud of me. I walked out to the dining hall singing because I was so happy, and I saw a gorgeous boy watching me, and I told him I liked his freckles. 

While Clara takes time to herself, I walk to the dining hall for a coffee, and if I'm being honest, a huge chocolate chip cookie and a vanilla ice cream cone. Between the glass tunnel and the dining hall is the visitor's area. Visitors aren't allowed to see our rooms. They're allowed to spend time in the visitor's area, which is just a large room with TV's on the walls and couches and chairs all around, each near an end table with a box of Kleenex. I have never been to the visitors' lounge, and I'm sure this is no surprise to anyone. 

On the door is a posting of who's currently using the lounge, and I glance and stop short recognizing his name. I peek through the window and find the familiar mess of blonde; his back is to me. In front of him, holding his hands in each of hers, is a small beautiful girl with round eyes and cheeks, and her gorgeous black hair shines under the lights, and she doesn't look like she belongs here. She's crying. She moves Cloud's hands each time her mouth moves. She looks our age. He's said something funny because she smiles, and her shoulders shake, and she smacks his arm.

I want to know who she is, and I wonder why he's never told me about her. I try to relax and tell myself he doesn't owe me anything. He doesn't have to tell me about the beautiful black-haired woman in his life, just as I'm sure he doesn't mention the psychotic brunette he sleeps with at night. The ice cream shop is closing as I give Toni my best smile and pout. She rolls her eyes and makes me an extra-large vanilla cone and tells me I'm lucky she loves me, and I wonder if she's being serious or teasing. My hands are full as I plop into a booth in the back of the dining hall. I set out my cookie and coffee and put a napkin under my cone. I pull out my sketchbook, I always keep in my bag, and my favorite pen. 

I haven't sketched in a while, and I feel rusty. Usually, Cloud lets me draw on him, as he lays on his back and rests his head in my lap, as I sit cross-legged on the ground and I listen as he makes up names for the plant life around us. There aren't many others in the dining hall. It's Sunday night, so most of them are down at the hall singing karaoke. I would have asked Clara, but after what happened earlier, I didn't think it was such a good idea anymore. 

I start filling the edges of the page with flowers. Flowers make up about 90% of my sketchbook, but I don't care. I begin drawing raindrops, hoping it will stop me from crying because, for some reason, that's all I want to do right now, and I hate crying. 

"Feasting like a king, I see." I jump at the sound of his voice above me. 

Looking up, I tease him back, "Excuse you, don't you mean queen?"

"My apologies, your highness," he bows. 

I motion to the seat across from me. "You are forgiven this once, but do not let it happen again!"

He sits, and I offer him food, as he grabs a chunk of cookie and a sip of coffee. 

"It's weird," he says, "I haven't seen you all day. It was lonely."

"You big softie," I tease. 

Cloud takes another bite of cookie and sip of coffee and nods towards my sketchbook. "Haven't seen that in a while."

"Yes, well, I didn't have your arms available."

He snorts. "I just keep fucking up today."

"Well, there's always tomorrow," I retort, licking my cone, and I could swear he's watching my mouth and my stomach flips. 

He shrugs, still watching me. "We still have tonight."

I think he's flirting and my heart leaps because Cloud doesn't flirt and he definitely doesn't flirt with me. I want to lunge across this table between us and rip his clothes off, and it takes every ounce of my being to just smile and bite my lip as he grabs the cone from my hand. He fingers the ice cream and dabs it on my nose. He takes a lick, still watching me. I know I shouldn't have. But I missed him so much today, and he was flirting with me, and he grabbed my hand as we walked together through the glass tunnel towards the hall, and I stopped him and pressed my free hand against his chest. 

He pushed me back lightly against the glass, his hands on my hips, and told me he doesn't want to hurt me or scare me. I pull his face to mine and attack his inexperienced mouth because I've waited eleven months and fourteen days to kiss his lips and taste his mouth. I need this, and I need him, and it feels like he needs me too as he presses himself closer to me against the glass. 

I tell him I want to go back to his room, and once inside, he asks if he should lock the door, and I nod, kick off my shoes, and he does the same. I'm kneeling on his bed waiting for him because I already miss his mouth and hands on me. He tells me to tell him to stop if I need to. I nod and throw my arms around his neck and pull him down on top of me. I feel his erection through his pants against my leg. I moan so loud I'm sure anyone near us can hear. I couldn't possibly care less as he kisses my neck, and I push him back to pull his shirt off of him, and he's more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. 

Light freckles are sprinkled across his shoulders, and I run my hands down his flat stomach. He hisses and sucks his stomach in, and I look up at him as he's on top of me, supporting himself on his hands, and his hair falls over his face, and he's beautiful. I quickly undo his pants and pull them down along with his boxers because I don't want to wait anymore. His cheeks turn my favorite shade of pink, and I pull him back down to me as he kicks his pants off the rest of the way. 

"I'm painfully aware of how naked I am compared to you," he whispers as I nibble on his neck. 

"Well, you can do something about that," I tease, and his breath catches, and I smile because he's the best thing in my entire life. I sit up so he can pull off my top, and I feel his fingers trembling against my skin, and when I take off my bra for him, he sits back and looks at me, and I cross my arms feeling self-conscious, and he asks if he did something wrong.

I shake my head and tell him, "I know they're small and pathetic."

He places a hand on my arm and shakes his head, "they're perfect, Aerith. You're perfect."

I move my arms and pull him back down to my mouth, and he whispers I'm beautiful, and I freeze. Suddenly I can't breathe, and his weight on top of me is too heavy, and he's still kissing my mouth, and I want to throw up. I start mumbling no as I push him back, and he's not stopping, and tears are burning my cheeks. 

"Cloud! No!" I scream, pushing him back as hard as I can. 

His eyes widen as he sits back and pulls his pants back up. He crawls over to me slowly as I'm rocking myself back and forth, my knees to my chest. 

"Aerith?" He whispers. "Aerith, I'm-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to- "

I'm embarrassed and upset and angry. "I don't want this anymore, Cloud," I mumble into my knees. 

"That's okay. I understand. I didn't mean to push you, I'm sorry." He drops his head, and I realize he doesn't understand, so I grab his face forcing him to look at me. 

"No, Cloud. You don't get it. I just want to be normal,"

"Aerith- "

I start to cry harder now, and I'm even angrier. "I want this so bad. I want you so bad, and I'm trying, but I can't stop thinking about them."

"Hey," he whispers and pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me. 

"Is this okay?" He asks. I nod and kiss his arm. 

"We'll get there, Aerith. I promise," he pushes my hair back, so he can kiss my bare shoulder and see my face. "I love you, and we're gonna get better, and one day we won't have to think about the bad shit anymore."

"What did you say?" I whisper, unsure if I heard him correctly, and I just want to listen to him repeat it if he did.

"We're gonna get better?" He repeats. 

"No, silly!" I smack his arm, playfully. "Did you tell me you loved me?"

"Hm?"

I turn around to face him now and grip onto his shoulders tightly. "Cloud Strife, did you say you loved me?"

"Oh, that!" He feigns surprise. "Yes, I did. I'm in love with you, Aerith," he whispers, caressing my cheek with his thumb. 

"I'm in love with you, Cloud," I whisper and press my forehead against his. We stay like this for a while, and he asks if I want to watch a movie. He offers his hand and passes me my bra and shirt. We make our way to the community center to rent a movie because we're not allowed to bring in our own, as the content might be triggering. 

We pick out some old romantic comedy and stop at the convenience shop for snacks. With our arms full, we drop everything on Cloud's bed as he falls back and pats the spot next to him, "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself."

"What if I don't want you to," I tease crawling towards him. 

"Aerith," he warns as I nibble at his jaw. He pulls me down to sit with my back against his chest and kisses my hair. "Behave," he whispers, and I pout. We fall asleep like this. 

I tell Cloud I want to be intimate with him, and he tells me we'll go as slow as I need to. We start with kissing, and I lead. He tells me to move his hands wherever I want them and to tell him to stop if I need to. I can't imagine the amount of patience and self-control this boy has. 

**CLOUD**

Monday morning, Marle asks if I can meet with her. I tell her about Tifa coming to see me, and she says that's good. I tell her about Aerith and how we love each other. She says she doesn't agree because we can't heal if we're both suffering and that I allow people to take advantage of me. She tells me Aerith uses sex to cope and doesn't understand love, and I get angry and tell her she doesn't know anything about her and leave. I don't want to talk about Aerith with her anymore. 

Aerith tells me about her mall trip with Clara, and I ask if they're both okay, and she says Clara seems to be in a better mood, and she actually ate her breakfast that morning. She asks what I did yesterday, and I almost tell her about Tifa, but I don't, and I'm not sure why that is. Maybe I don't want her to think I'm weak. Maybe I don't want Marle to be right because I was in love with my next-door neighbor who called me a parasite, and even after that, I still wanted her to like me as much as I liked her. Tifa had walked through the front doors of the visitors' lounge, and she looked even more beautiful than I remembered. 

She smiled and hugged me and told me she felt like she was visiting her husband in prison, and I laughed even though I didn't know what she meant by that. She tells me she's sorry for how she treated me and all the things she said to me when we were little. She tells me one of her steps is to apologize to all the people she's wronged. I don't know why it makes me upset that I'm just a name to cross off her list – another 'to-do.' Her hands are cold as they grab mine, and she closes her eyes when she apologizes. All I can think about is Aerith and how she would never close her eyes to apologize. 

She leaves after she says what she needs to, mentally crossing my name off her list, and I'm sure she's pleased with herself. It's late now, and I know Aerith doesn't like to be outside alone at night. I knock on her and Clara's door, and no one answers. Aerith loves late-night snacks. She tells me she would rather fill her mouth with food than something else, so I wasn't surprised to find her tucked into a booth in the corner in the dining hall. When she thinks no one's watching her, she squeezes her eyes tight and clasps her hands together until her knuckles turn white. She's beautiful, and I've always known this, but she still looks like an angel under the ugly fluorescents. I've never kissed anyone, but I really want to kiss her, and I want her to want to kiss me. 

I'm nervous as I reach for her hand in the glass tunnel. I'm even more nervous as she pulls off my shirt, and I feel my whole body shaking, and I'm sure she can feel it too, but because she's Aerith, she doesn't say anything about it. I feel guilty because this isn't the first time I've thought about Aerith naked, and on nights when she's not in my bed, I think about her being naked a lot. I feel bad because I think about how much more experience she has than me and I don't like thinking it because she never wanted to be more experienced than me and I think about a younger Aerith crying underneath a monster, and I feel sick, but then she holds my face in her soft hands, and she smiles at me, and I forget about all the pieces of shit in her life. I hope I can make her happy because she deserves it more than anyone I know. 

I tell her she's beautiful because she is, and she screams at me and pushes me back, and I feel like I'm another monster in her life who has her pinned beneath them. She tells me she doesn't want this anymore, and it hurts, but I understand. Maybe she was caught up in the moment, and when she realized it was me she was with, the pathetic parasite who death follows, she came to her senses. But she holds my face in her hands again and tells me she wants me and I can't breathe, so I just hold her and tell her I love her, because I do. 


	3. Chapter 3

**AERITH**

Cloud's gentle hands and patience turn me on, and I realize this is counterproductive to what we're trying to do. He's sitting cross-legged on his bed while I straddle him. His mouth is on my breasts, his tongue flicking lightly over my nipples. I push his hand in my panties and move his fingers against me. I want to touch him so badly. Whenever I try to reach for his crotch, he pulls my wrist back gently, and I pout and whine as he smiles at me. He tells me this is about me. When I tease him and tell him he needs to be touched and loved too, in the best sultry voice I can muster, he kisses my fingers and tells me it's not about him right now. 

On nights when I stay in my room with Clara, we squeal, as I tell her all the sweet things he says and does. I tell her how much I love him and how much I want to marry him and have his babies. She tells me how much she likes Ryder, and she thinks he likes her too. We lay on our backs on our beds, staring up at the ceiling, deciding on our dream weddings and dream homes and dream families with the boys we met and fell in love with in rehab.

I want Clara to be happy because she's gained eight pounds and we go on long walks around the facility, and she looks so good. I ask Cloud if he thinks Ryder likes Clara, and he chuckles. His breath tickles the inside of my thigh, and he tells me he'll find out. My back arches and I moan loudly, pulling on his hair when I feel his tongue inside me. We still haven't had actual sex, and the wanting is nearly killing me. We've done everything, but. It's becoming so unbearable that I touch myself every time I'm showering, imagining him inside me. I beg Elmyra to let us leave for the evening because Cloud and I have been together for five months. We want to pretend to be an average couple for one night, and she rolls her eyes dramatically and agrees and asks me what I'm going to wear.

Elmyra tells me not to tell anyone else, but if she could, she would adopt me in a heartbeat, and I tell her if she did, I would say yes in a heartbeat. She tells me she's so happy Cloud and I have one another because we're both fantastic people who were dealt an extraordinarily shitty hand. I hug her after she hands me a permission note to leave campus. I jump on Clara when I find her in our room. We walk to group together, and I tell the girls Cloud and I have our first official date off-campus. We all gush together, and for the first time, I feel like I'm part of a family. Denise and Margot ask how I'm going to do my hair and makeup, and I tell them I hadn't planned on doing anything different. They beg me to let them do both, so I say yes.

Ryder asked Clara this morning if she wanted to go for a walk with him, and I've never seen her smile so much, and I can't help but smile to myself, knowing this means that Cloud talked to him. Ryder comes to pick Clara up while Denise and Margot mess with my hair and face. I'm being pulled back and forth and told to keep my head straight. I flinch every time I feel the heat from the curling iron near my ear. Margot tells me to relax. Denise tells me to close my eyes or pucker my lips, and I do as I'm told. Three other girls from group sit on the floor and on my bed. 

We talk about boys and hair and makeup. Clara apologizes profusely for leaving so soon. She says she's picked my outfit for me, hanging in the closet. I'm not allowed to look at it until my hair and makeup are done, and I have to take pictures. I imagine this is what a school prom must feel like. Surrounded by friends helping you get ready as your heart beats rapidly, and you struggle to calm your breathing thinking about the boy who asked you to go with him.

The girls make Cloud wait by the front doors for me. They tumble back into my room, telling me how cute he is, and he's holding a corsage, and my heart lunges. I've changed into the dress Clara picked out for me. I've never seen her wear it. It's a light pink dress with floral lacing on the hem and neckline. It falls just below my knees in the back, lifting higher in the front. A dark pink belt cinches around my waist and thin pink straps tie behind my neck. Margot has me wear a pair of her silver earrings and matching silver bangles. Clara has left me pink high heels, and I mentally pray I do not fall while I'm wearing them tonight. 

Margot turns our floor length mirror around as Denise stands behind me, holding my arms. They both shout 'ta-dah!' once I see my reflection. I squint at the girl in the mirror. I don't recognize her. She's pretty. Her long, heavy chestnut brown hair is curled and pulled back into a high ponytail secured by a large pink ribbon settled at the crown of her head. Her makeup looks flawless. Light pink blush brushes her cheekbones. Her eyelashes are full and thick. A light, sticky gloss covers her lips and makes them shimmer. The girls watch me anxiously waiting for a response. Elmyra pops her head through the door and tells me I look beautiful, and for the first time in my life, the word doesn't make me flinch, and I really feel beautiful.

**CLOUD**

The foyer is quiet, and I'm hyperaware of how heavy I'm breathing. I wipe my hands on my pants again, passing the clear plastic box back and forth in my hands. Clara helped me pick out the pink and white corsage this morning. She shakes my arm excitedly.

"If you ever hurt Aerith, I'll have you killed, got it?" She warns, still holding my arm and poking a finger at me.

"Yes, ma'am," I nod.

Heels click and echo down the hall. I turn and exhale loudly, unable to close my mouth. Aerith walks towards me with her hands clasped in front of her. The girls are peeking around the corner at us, and I don't care. She's gorgeous. She's more than that, and if I were any good with words, I would think of something better to say and tell her that. She smiles at me and chews on her bottom lip.

"Hey, handsome," she stops in front of me, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning towards me.

"Hi," my voice is a choked whisper.

"Well, what do you think?" she asks, lifting her arms to the side and twirling around.

I stammer like an idiot.

Her mouth is a straight line.

"What? You don't like it," she asks.

I shake my head quickly.

"I-I didn't say that."

Because she's Aerith, she understands I'm terrible with words, and I hope someday I'm not so I can tell her how amazing and beautiful she is. I help her slip the corsage on her wrist as she loops her arm with mine. The girls behind her scream excitedly and wave after us. Elmyra tells Aerith about a really fancy Italian restaurant, which is where we are now. The host pulls her chair out for her, and once he leaves, Aerith whispers that she feels like a fraud. I tell her she looks beautiful. Older couples and families around us smile at us and whisper behind their hands to one another. I wonder if they know we're frauds too.

Aerith spends the rest of the evening speaking to the staff with a horrible British accent. I think about how this probably would have embarrassed me before I met her, but now I would have been disappointed if she hadn't done something ridiculous. She holds my hand under the table, sipping on her lemonade.

"You look very handsome," she says.

I snicker and shake my head.

"Part of me wants to cut our date short, so I can shove you on the bed and rip your clothes off."

"I would actually be pretty amazed to see that," I tell her.

She smirks and hums, her hand landing between my legs. I gasp and curse, and she giggles.

"You're killing me," I say.

After dinner, she grabs my hand, pulling me towards an atrium surrounded by flowers near the restaurant. The sun is setting, but the air is still warm. I ask if she's cold. She shakes her head and pats the empty space next to her on a ledge.

"You should wear blue more often," she says as I sit carefully next to her.

"Oh yeah?" I chew on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I've had since I was little.

She leans her head against my shoulder. I feel her head nod.

"It brings out your eyes and contrasts amazingly with your hair and complexion."

"I'll keep that in mind."

A few moments pass in silence. I watch a small bird hop around a ledge across from us.

"Hey, Cloud?" Her voice is quiet.

"Hm?"

"Who was that girl who came to see you?"

"Huh?"

I stiffen, and she lifts her head, her face is close to mine.

"The pretty girl with the shiny black hair."

I don't want to tell her about Tifa. I don't want to tell her how I used to follow her around when we were kids, and she would call me weird and ask about Zack. I don't want to tell her that when she came to see me, I was excited because I thought maybe she might say to me that after all these years, she has feelings for me too.

"She was my neighbor when we were kids."

Aerith tilted her head and cocked her eyebrow up.

"Your neighbor came to visit you in rehab?"

I shrug. "I liked her, and she liked my friend, and she thought I was weird and called me a parasite. She came to apologize for what she said and then she left."

"What a bitch," she smiles at me. "She's very pretty."

"Maybe. But, she's not you."

She chuckles. "Lucky for her."

She looks down at her fingers, clasped together on her lap. I grab her hands and feel her relax.

"Cloud?" She says to her hands.

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to do when you leave here?"

I know she's been thinking about this because I have too. Aerith's eighteen now and in three months she'll have to leave.

"I'm not sure. What do you want to do?"

She props herself up, sitting on her hands. "I want to be an artist. I want to get married, and build a big house with you and have lots of babies."

"You think your husband would be okay if you and I built a big house together and had lots of babies?"

She laughs, throwing her head back and nudges my shoulder with hers.

"What would I do?" I ask.

She hums, contemplating. "You'll be a child psychiatrist."

She glances at me, grinning. Her bright green eyes shimmering. My eyebrows knit together.

"You're smart, and you listen, and you understand, and you'll help save all these little babies from the horrible life that we had," she says.

"Okay," I nod. "Sounds like a plan."

**AERITH**

Clara tells me Ryder is sleeping in our room, so Cloud's room is empty when we get there. He closes the door behind him, and I shove him against it, pressing my lips hard against his. His hands are on my hips, pulling my dress up, and my stomach flips because this is the night I lose my virginity with Cloud, and he wants to be with me too. I cradle his face in my hands and tilt his head to the side, licking my way across his lips and teeth. He moans softly in my mouth, and the space between my legs is tingling now. I feel his tongue against mine and push my hips hard against his. Pulling him back towards his bed, we fall against the sheets once the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed.

He whispers my name as I snake my hands up his shirt and kiss his neck, asking if I'm sure. I nod and unbuckle his pants. He grabs my wrist.

"Aerith," he says.

He's pulling back, and I try to stop him.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," he says, sitting up beside me.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask him, sitting on my heels.

"No. I don't know," Cloud says, "I'm sorry, Aerith. Maybe I'm just intimidated, and I don't want to disappoint you. I haven't been with as many people as you have."

I scoff in disbelief. My face feels hot, and my throat tightens. Cloud turns to me and suddenly looks horrified.

"No. Shit. That's not what I meant. I meant I just don't know what it's supposed to be like."

He tries to reach for my hand.

"I don't know what it's supposed to be like either," I pull my hand back, and I'm yelling, and I don't mean to. He flinches. "I know what it's like to be molested and assaulted, Cloud. I don't know what it's like for someone to make love to me."

He reaches for my hands again, and I stand from the bed. He starts apologizing and I ask him what he's apologizing for. He tells me he's not sure anymore; he just knows I'm upset. I call him a coward. I pull my shoes back on and slam the door behind me. I feel like trash. I feel like damaged goods.

Ryder and Clara are sleeping when I get back to our room. I climb into bed with Clara, and she shushes me and strokes my hair until we fall asleep. The next morning she takes me for ice cream, and I tell her everything.

"Don't you think maybe you're being a bit hard on him?" She says.

I take a big bite of ice cream and scoff. "Clar, he called me a slut."

"He did?" She stirs her ice cream, which is now the consistency of soup.

"Well, no. Not exactly, but he implied it."

She sighs and sets her spoon down.

"Aerith, you know how much I love you, but I think you need to cut him some slack. You're loud, and you _are_ intimidating, and whether it was your choice or not, you _are_ more sexually experienced than he is. Cloud is quiet, and he's a fucking bundle of nerves, who stiffens anytime anyone comes near him. For fuck sake, you were his first kiss. Give the poor kid a break. He's trying."

I wonder if she's right, and suddenly I feel like an asshole. Cloud is not the best with words, but he's kind, and I know this. He's always patient with me, and when he makes a mistake, I attack him. Cloud's used to being attacked and talked down to. Suddenly I lose my appetite. Two days later, Clara and I head back to our room to change into our pajamas. She hands me a piece of paper, as I'm brushing my teeth. She said it must have been slipped under the door. I open it and recognize Cloud's handwriting.

_I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. You know this better than anyone._

I smile and roll my eyes because he's such an annoying, sweet, adorable little brat, and I miss him. I want to rub my face in his hair and feel his hands on me, and I want to hear him laugh, and Clara knows this and tells me to go. I take his note with me. Once I'm in front of his door, I see a sliver of light underneath and press my ear to the door. I slip his note through the crack and watch for any movement. I hear Ryder's voice call Cloud's name, and the door opens. I forgot how beautiful he was, and it's only been two days, but it feels like months. I pout and stick out my lower lip, clasping my hands behind my back, rocking back and forth on my heels. He looks at me, cocking an eyebrow and smirks, and I want to kiss him. He holds his note up to me.

"Lazy," he jokes.

I laugh and tell him I'm sorry for being an asshole. He tells me he's sorry for being an idiot. I jump on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck and attack his mouth, shoving my tongue down his throat and pushing him back towards his bed, where I straddle him.

"You guys wanna at least wait until I leave?" Ryder says, putting his shoes on.

I laugh and nibble and kiss Cloud's neck. He smells so good, and I want him so badly, and I think it's because I was stupid and I could have lost him, and I don't ever want to do that again. I feel his hands on my ass, and I want to scream.

"Bye, Ryder," I say without looking at him.

"You kids be safe. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" He calls out, standing in the doorway.

"Alright, bye," Cloud says impatiently.

Ryder shuts the door behind him.

I push myself back into his hands and assure him with a moan that I want him to continue. He helps me pull my shirt off. He looks at my chest and then at me for permission. I bite my lower lip and nod excitedly. His hand is on my breast, and he's rubbing his thumb over my nipple. He pulls me down, his hand on my neck as he's kissing me hard. I rock my hips over him. He's hard, and it makes me wet, and I just want him to touch me more because he's Cloud, and I know he's Cloud, and he won't hurt me, and he loves me. I want him, and I need him so badly. I continue rocking and press myself against him as hard as I can, and his breath catches, and he groans. He stops kissing me and cradles my face in his hands, were both out of breath.

"I'm sorry. Really I am. I'm an idiot."

"Shush," I tell him, putting my finger against his lips.

"But-" he tries to interject.

"Cloud, my love, my light. I love you more than anything. But please just shut up and fuck me," I whisper against his lips.

The look on his face is incredible, and if I could sit and stare at it all day, I would. I would fucking bathe in this man if I could. He flips me over on my back, and I squeal and smile against his lips. We've done all this before. I unbuckle and unzip his pants quickly, and his mouth is on my breasts. I arch my back and moan loudly. He slips his thumbs under my waistband and looks at me again, and I nod. He pulls them down, and plants kisses on my hip, and I feel his fingers inside me. He groans.

"Fuck, you're really wet," he whispers, and I pull his hair because hearing him talk dirty has affected me more than I ever thought it would.

He works his fingers inside me as I grip onto the arm he's using to hold himself up. I feel like I'm going to explode, and I can't stop wriggling underneath him.

"Cloud, please," I whine.

He stops, his fingers still inside me, and he looks at me, and I'm pretty sure I just came on his fingers. My mouth is so dry, and I try to swallow. I grab him, moving my hand slowly up and down his length. his eyes clamp shut, and his breaths are short and choked. He looks fantastic, and I think I would be content to work him with my hand until he comes just so I can continue watching this look on his face. He grabs my wrist gently and tells me to stop. He sits back on his heels. I whimper missing the weight of him already. He reaches in his nightstand and grabs a foil packet.

I exhale loudly because this is new. This is something we've never done, and I'm wet and itching between my legs as I run my fingers up and down his arm. He rips the packet open with his mouth, and with swollen lips and pink cheeks, he asks if I'll help him. He groans as I slip the condom on him and shimmy myself higher up his bed. He lowers himself over me, and I feel his hardness between my legs, and I gasp and moan. He apologizes and asks if it's okay. I nod, unable to wait anymore. 

I grab him and push myself against him. We both groan in unison as I feel him inside me. He gasps and curses, and I cradle his face in my hand. I whimper when he starts moving. He holds himself up on his hands as he thrusts inside me. I wrap my legs around him and force him down further, my arms around his neck. He lowers himself down and licks my neck and whispers he loves me, and I come again.

He apologizes and tells me he won't last much longer, and I chuckle and tell him it's okay. He squeezes his eyes shut again, and his breaths are soft and choked. He stops moving and lays his head against my chest. His hair is damp with sweat, as I push his bangs back and kiss the top of his head. Once we catch our breaths, I hear him chuckle.

"Fuck," he whispers and pushes himself back, taking off the used condom and tossing it in the trash quickly.

He kisses my forehead and my lips and lays his head back on my bare chest.

I hum happily. "Good?" I ask him, stroking his hair.

"I could definitely get used to it," he jokes.

He pulls his boxers back up, and I find my underwear and grab his shirt. I sit up and redo my ponytail, and he's staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"You look much better in my shirts than I do."

We laugh, and I push him back against the sheets and lay on his chest. We fall asleep this way.


	4. Chapter 4

** CLOUD  **

"I've been having dreams about Zack a lot lately." 

"What happens in these dreams?" Marle asks, taking a sip of coffee, her rings tapping the side of her mug.

"Nothing, really. We're hanging out and playing video games or eating dinner at his parent's house." 

She sets her mug down on the end table. 

"And how do you feel when you wake up?"

I shrug. "Fine, I guess. But I think sometimes I expect to wake up back in my bed, back home and everything goes back to normal. But then I open my eyes and Aerith's next to me, and I'm still happy."

She raises an eyebrow. 

"Cloud, you know you're not supposed to be sharing a bed with anyone."

"Yeah, well, what are they gonna do? Kick her out even earlier?" 

She laughs. "You've developed quite an attitude."

"Sorry," I mutter. 

"No, no! It's good. You speak your mind. When you first came here, it was like pulling teeth to get you to say anything." 

She sighs and presses a hand to my knee. "I was wrong for what I said about Aerith, Cloud. I had no right."

"What will you do when she leaves?" She asks. 

I shrug. "I don't know. I want to go with her, though." 

"You don't want to stay here until it's time for you to go?" 

I don't like thinking about it much. Aerith leaves in a month and a half, and she says she'll come and visit me on Sundays, but I don't want to see her on Sundays. I want to see her every day, and I want to hold her hand whenever I want to, and I want to fall asleep next to her every night. When I tell her this, she holds my face in her hands and tells me to take advantage of the time I have left here. But what do I have left here without her? 

Marle sighs again. "Cloud, can I tell you what I think your dreams might mean?"

I nod. 

"You're moving on. When we lose people we love, we sometimes grieve for so long out of guilt that we're still here. Why should we be able to live our lives and be happy when they can't? But that's not true. We're allowed to live and love and be happy, and we can also love and miss the ones we've lost. You're not remembering Zack the way you used to, and you're not imagining his death over and over. You remember the good times, no matter how insignificant those memories might seem. They were good, and you still have so much time left to make more good memories with the loved ones you still have." 

She puts her hand on my knee again. "Cloud? I'm so proud of you, and I know your mother and Zack would be proud of you." 

I meet Ryder for breakfast, and he tells me he got his notice that he leaves in five months. I frown and glance at my feet. 

"Hey, come on, man," he says, slapping my back, "you'll have the room to yourself, and then five months later, you'll be out of here too." 

"Why am I so sad that all of this is coming to an end?" I ask. 

He shrugs. "Because we're family." 

We talk our leaders into letting us have a bonfire. Correction, Aerith talks our leaders into letting us have a bonfire because she could talk herself in and out of anything. We have sex a lot now in my room. Ryder knows this, but he doesn't say anything. He's taken to falling asleep with his headphones on while we try to stay as quiet as possible. He scolded us once before he started wearing headphones. 

"You guys are so fucking loud," he says to us, while we're all still lying in bed. 

"Sorry, we'll try to keep it down," I tell him. 

" _Uh! Cloud! Uh! Yes! Harder!_ " He teases, imitating Aerith. 

"Shut up!" She laughs and chucks a pillow at him. He catches it and hurls it back at us. "Just because _you're_ not getting any!" She teases. 

" _Pfft._ You two get enough for all of us, trust me." 

** AERITH  **

A few of the boys bring their guitars and play music as we sit around the crackling bonfire. Cloud and I are wrapped in my blanket. I lean my head back against his chest, our fingers intertwined as he rubs his thumb over my knuckles. Clara is snuggled next to Ryder, her head against his shoulder. She's smiling with her eyes closed, and I can hear Ryder singing along with the music. Denise and Margot are snuggled under a blanket, and I smile at Denise through the dancing flames, and she smiles back. I close my eyes and try not to cry because I know this is the last time we'll all be here. These are my friends, and this is my family. We're still fucked up teenagers, but we're loved. We love each other. 

That night while Cloud and I are making love, I moan extra loud, so Ryder can hear us. He yells at us to shut up, and we all laugh. I have less than a month here, and I feel sick when I think about leaving these people. My entire body physically aches when I think about leaving Cloud. I'm trying not to be selfish, but I want him to come with me when I go. I'm getting an apartment in the city. It's a studio near the college campus. Elmyra handed me my GED, and we had our last private session together. She told me she's always here for me, and I cried as we hugged. 

Cloud asks if he can come with me, and he'll help me with rent. As much as it hurts, I tell him no. I want him to take advantage of the time he has left here. 

"If you wanna see other people, I get it," he tells me with his head hung like a sad puppy. 

I grab his face and pull his cheeks together to look at me. "No, you dumb dumb! We have a plan, right? Big house? Babies? Just me, you, and my husband, remember?"

He smiles, and I push him against our tree down at the falls, his arms covered in my flower art. I want to beg him to come with me, but instead, I press my lips against his and pull his arms around my waist. Clara and I are painting our toenails on the floor between our beds after the bonfire. She tells me Ryder kissed her and told her he really likes her, and she hopes that they can have what Cloud and I have one day. She asks when we're moving and when I tell her he's staying, she drops the nail polish applicator back into the bottle. 

"What?! Are you insane?" She yells. 

"What?" I ask. 

"Why would he stay here?"

"Because he deserves to stay here until he can't anymore, Clar. Settle down. It's only a year – less than a year!"

She scoffs. "And you think you're going to be okay only seeing each other maybe once a week for a year?"

"Well, no. It's gonna suck a lot, but I don't want to be selfish by making him come with me."

"Aer, I hardly think that's selfish, and I doubt Cloud would think of it that way either. You two have already like pronounced your undying love for each other, so why are delaying the inevitable? Go be adults! Go be real people together!" 

"Maybe you're right," I tell her. 

"Of course, I'm right!" 

"Will you come to stay with us too?" 

She laughs. "Let's have sleepovers and let me be a bridesmaid, and we'll call it good."

"Deal," I tell her as we finish painting our nails.

I wanted to talk to Cloud and tell him I want him to come with me. I want to share a tiny studio apartment with him with no furniture. We'll share takeout on the floor sitting cross-legged in front of each other in our underwear. We'll make love all over the apartment and help each other study, and when we get bored studying, he'll pull the books out of my hands and sweep them on the floor and climb on top of me. Cloud will go to medical school because he's brilliant and talented. I'll paint and cover the apartment with art, and when he comes home from class, he'll walk up behind me, wrap his arms around me, kiss my neck, and we'll fall asleep in each other's arms. When he graduates, he'll open his own practice, and I'll have my own art studio. Between appointments, he'll sneak out of the office, lift me up on the table, and make love to me until he has to go back. 

We'll build a big house in the country with a big yard with a bunch of kids running around, and they'll look just like their father because he's beautiful and perfect. I tell him all of this as he holds me under the covers, and he says he couldn't imagine anything better. 

The next morning Clara and I are supposed to meet for breakfast, but she doesn't show up. I assume she's probably slept in, so I head back to our room and unlock the door. The bathroom door is closed with the light on, but I don't hear the shower running. I call out her name and hear nothing. Knocking on the door, I start to get nervous because she's not answering. I'm yelling now and banging on the door wildly. I twist the knob and find her passed out on the floor. Her eyes are open, and her lips are cracked and blue, and she's cold. There's throw up in the toilet, and I scream. I don't remember much after that. 

Bits and pieces come back to me in a blur. Margot and Denise asking me what happened. Marle tells the group of girls huddled by the door to get back to their rooms. I'm curled up in the corner of the bathroom, and Margot has her arms around me. Someone must have gotten Cloud because he replaces Margot, and I fist his shirt hard and scream into his chest. 

We're on his bed. I'm curled up next to him as he strokes my hair. He doesn't say anything, and I hope he knows how much that meant to me because I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to hear anything. 

Cardiac arrest. She was seventeen years old. Her heart gave out on her while she made herself sick. She died with her face in a fucking toilet. I'm sad, and I'm angry, and I miss her. Cloud holds my hand through the entire funeral. Denise leans over and points out Clara's parents. Her mother wails into her father's chest as he strokes her hair and wipes his eyes with a Kleenex. 

Fake fucking actors. 

I want to tell them this. I want to scream in their faces and tell them this is their fault. That if he could have just kept his fucking hands to himself, Clara might still be alive. I tell Denise this, and she tells me that if I have to attend her funeral and see her father there, I have permission to murder him. 

So many little girls. 

Too many daughters touched and ruined by the hands of men. 

The hands of monsters. 

Monsters that have no idea how easily they've destroyed so many lives. 

I look at Cloud, and he smiles sadly at me, and I really hope he gets to be a father someday, and I hope I get to see it because he's kind and gentle, and women deserve to see him be a father. Women deserve to know that good men exist. 

I can't go back to our room. Cloud packs up my things and grabs Clara's ring for me. It was wrong of me to ask him to steal. But I knew how much she loved that ring and I needed to know that it ended up with someone who loved her. It was her grandmothers - a gold band with a small ruby in the center that she wore on her right ring finger. I wear it every day. We ask Ryder if it's okay if I stay for a while. He smiles politely and says it wouldn't be any different than it is now. Cloud squeezes his shoulder, and Ryder falls against his chest and cries. I'm so proud of Cloud for wrapping his arms around him because Cloud doesn't like to touch, and I know how difficult it is for him, but he knows how much more difficult it is for Ryder now. 

I tell Cloud how angry I am at Clara because she was so close, and she was doing so much better, and he tells me that's normal and not to be too hard on myself. I ask him if that's how he felt when Zack died, and his head snaps up, and his eyes widen. I don't bring up Zack because I know he doesn't like it. But I need to know. If it's something Cloud felt then, it's okay because Cloud is kind and understanding. He nods and tells me yes. 

During our group meetings, no one sits in her spot. Clara was always first to group, and whoever was last would grab an extra chair. Nobody touches her spot, and whoever is last pulls in an extra chair. My face is sore, and it hurts from crying so often now, and I'm so angry at her for doing this. We were getting better. I want to be better. I wanted her to be better, and now I feel more fucked up than ever. Elmyra reminds me this isn't about me, and Clara didn't do this to hurt me. She did this to numb her own pain.

I can't stop tossing and turning, so I make my way outside under mine and Cloud's tree by the falls, and I draw in the dark because I can't think of anything else to do. I left Cloud a note on the off chance he wakes up while I'm out, and I know he'll be worried. So when I hear the sound of grass crunching behind me, I assume it's him. But it's not. It's Cory, one of the boys with the guitars at the bonfire. 

"Can't sleep?" He asks. 

"Not really," I answer and set my pen down. 

"Mind if I join you?" He asks. 

I scoot over and shrug. 

He plops next to me with a sigh. I don't know Cory well. I know Cloud doesn't like him much, and I know he sometimes hangs out with Ryder, and I know his ex-girlfriend, who overdosed, got him addicted to meth. He's missing teeth and has horrible pockmarks on his face. But he seems kind enough to me, and he's talented with a guitar. 

"Thinking about Clara?" He asks. 

"I can't stop."

"I get it. When Mandy died, I couldn't stop wondering what I could have done differently to help her."

"How did you stop wondering?"

He shrugged. "Time, I guess."

He looks around. "Where's Cloud? Hardly ever see you two apart."

"He's sleeping. I didn't want to wake him."

"You two are pretty serious, huh?"

My eyebrows pinch together. The change of topic to mine and Cloud's relationship seems a little strange. 

"Yes. I think so."

"That's good. It's good to have people you care about around you."

I nod. I can't really explain why, because Cory's not necessarily saying or doing anything odd. Still, suddenly I'm aware of how far the front doors are and how dark it is out here—my heartbeat pounds in my ears when he puts a hand on my thigh. I feel sick, and I want to be back in Cloud's bed, tucked under his arm. I wonder if there's a chance he's awake and looking for me, so I glance towards the path, but it's empty. 

"Yes, he cares about me a lot. He should be coming down shortly, actually." I lie. 

He chuckles and moves his hand up a little higher. "Thought you said he was asleep."

"You're right. It's getting late. I'm gonna head back in." I say quickly and reach for my things and try to stand to my feet.

His hand is strong and rough, and I'm afraid. I can barely make out the features of his face, but what I can see, I've seen before. I recognize his tone and the look in his eye, and I try to move his hand. 

"Cory, I would like to leave," I say carefully. 

"You're so beautiful, Aerith. You deserve better than Cloud. He can't please you. Not like I can." He grabs my wrist tightly. 

"Stop. You're being gross. Please let go of me." 

He shushes me and tells me it's alright, and I try to scream, but he places a hand tight over my mouth and pins my wrist down to the ground under him. I know this has to be a terrible dream. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now. I close my eyes as tightly as I can, as he pushes my shorts down quickly and shoves his dirty finger inside me. I'm not waking up, I can't breathe, and I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I try to scream for Cloud because I know this can't be real. He's still holding his hand tight over my mouth as he fingers me and groans in my ear, telling me how good I feel. I want to throw up as I try to close my legs. I get my knee between his legs and thrust it upward as hard as I can.

His breath catches in his throat. He rolls over, holding his crotch. He calls me a slut as I pull my shorts up and run back up the hill. I want to run back into Cloud's room. I want him to hold me and tell me everything's alright, but I don't want him to know. I don't want him to know I'm just what my foster brother always said I was. 

Trash. 

Damaged goods. 

I think about going back to my room, but I'm not ready for that because I don't think I would be able to walk through the door and not see Clara's frail body lying on the floor. I stop in the middle of the glass tunnel and push myself as far against the glass as I can and pull my knees in tight. It's late. I'm not sure what time, but it's well past curfew, so I don't expect to see someone's shoes in front of me. 

"Aerith?" It's Ryder. His brows are furrowed as he leans down. 

"What are you doing?" He asks. I tell him about Cory. He asks where he is, and I tell him I don't know. He says he'll take me back to his room and find Cory and kick his ass. I tell him I don't want to go back to his room, and I beg him not to tell Cloud. I know he doesn't understand, but he sits next to me and puts his arm over my shoulders anyway. I lean against his chest, and I'm not sure how long we sit while I cry. Ryder wakes me, and I wonder what time it is. When he opens the door to their room, a sliver of light through the blinds illuminates Cloud's ridiculous mop of blonde hair, and I nearly leap across the room to reach him. His eyes flutter open slowly. Watching Ryder and me, he asks what's going on, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. Ryder gives me a look like I should tell him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into his bed. Cloud repeats himself, sitting up, and I tell him everything. He's quieter than usual. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is clenched. 

He asks if I'm okay, and when I tell him yes, he's already standing and pulling a pair of black jeans on and a white v neck t-shirt. As he pulls his black converse on, I ask him what he's doing. 

"I'm going to kill him," he answers. His eyes are wild, and his tone sends shivers through me. 

"Cloud, stop, I'm okay! Really! I promise!" I beg him, grabbing his arm. 

"Dude, come on. Just leave it. We'll deal with it later, alright?" Ryder chimes in.

He shakes my hands off his arm. "No, I'm gonna deal with it now."

"Cloud, please, this isn't funny," I say, reaching for his arm again as he pulls the door open.

"I'm not laughing," he says and closes the door. 

Ryder and I follow after him calling his name. He's not stopping, and I'm afraid. Cloud's strong, but he's little. Cory towers over him, and I'm not sure he would stand a chance. I've never seen him like this, and it frightens me. He stops in front of Cory's door. Ryder and I try to reason with him. I'm pulling on his hand and begging him to come back to bed. He's no longer gentle, as he pulls his arm back, and I think I might be more afraid of Cloud right now than Cory's grimy hands. Cory's roommate opens the door. He's already dressed, he must be headed to the gym because he has his tennis shoes and headphones. His roommate's eyes widen when he sees the three of us. Cloud pushes past him and lunges at Cory's bed. 

Ryder and Cory's roommate push past me, trying to pull Cloud back. Cloud's fists make contact with Cory's skin, and it sounds like he's punching a bag full of sand over and over. Cloud's small, but he's quick as he ducks under Ryder and the roommate's grasp. I'm still yelling Cloud's name as Cory pins him on the ground with his arm pressed hard against Cloud's throat. Cory gets one good punch in. Cloud kicks him hard and pins him underneath him, and his fists move quickly. Cory is choking as blood spatters from his nose and mouth. One of the male therapists, who I've never met, runs around the corner and grabs Cloud by the collar of his shirt and throws him off. Cory's face is covered in blood, and I feel sick. Cloud tries to lunge for him again. Ryder and the roommate each grab one of his arms and hold him back. Ryder looks to me, and I drop to my knees in front of Cloud. I hardly recognize him. His hair is covered in blood. His nose looks broken, blood dripping, his right eye already bruising. He's breathing hard, and his teeth are bared. I'm afraid of him. I whisper his name and place my fingers against his cheek. His face softens, and he leans into my hand. His shirt is stained in blood. He asks if I'm okay, and I cry and press my face into his neck. He wraps his arms around me and tells me he's sorry, and I wonder what exactly he's sorry for.

He and Cory meet with the administrators, who are likely determining their fate. Ryder and I wait in the dining hall. He buys me a cookie that is still sitting untouched in front of me. My fingers are fidgeting on the table, and I can't slow my breathing. I feel nauseous, and my throat is dry. 

"Aerith," Ryder puts his hand on mine, and I jump. "It's gonna be okay. Just breathe."

I nod and do my best to follow his advice. I see the familiar mess of blonde, painted red, enter the dining hall. I jump to my feet and sprint to him. He smiles at me, and I can see his lip is cracked open and swollen. He puts both hands on my shoulders as I search his face waiting for an explanation. 

His arms are around me, and he drops his head on my shoulder. Once we've made our way back to the booth, I place my hand on Cloud's thigh, and he covers mine with his. The smell of copper is overwhelming, and his eye has started to swell shut. 

"So? Dude, come on! What happened?" Ryder asks. 

Cloud shrugs. "They told me Cory is being kicked out, and they gave me a warning and told me if something like this happens again, I'm out."

The three of us laugh, and I'm not sure why. Maybe because we needed it and maybe because none of us had any idea Cloud had that in him. 

"Dude, you were a fucking _beast_! I thought you were gonna kill him!" 

"I wanted to," Cloud says and looks at me, "are you okay?"

I shake my head because I'm really not sure, but I don't think so. I tell him I don't want to go down to the falls anymore because that spot is ruined. We sit on one of the benches out front, and he asks me what I'm thinking. 

"You scared me, Cloud," I tell him. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know. But you did. I didn't like seeing you like that."

"I'm sorry, Aerith. I really am. I wasn't thinking. When you told me what he did to you, I just lost it. I'm sorry."

"I can't have you losing it like that, Cloud. You're the smart, practical one. I'm the impulsive one." He chuckles.

"I've never seen you look like that before," I continue. "I barely recognized you, and when you looked at me, it scared me."

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I think I was mad at myself too. That I wasn't there to protect you."

"Baby," I hold his face in my hands, and he flinches, "it's not your job to always protect me."

"Yes, it is," he whispers, "Otherwise, what else am I good for?"

"What else are you good for?" I scoff. "Do you really not have any idea how much you mean to me? How fucking important you are to me? I'm so completely pathetically obsessed and in love with your dumb face. Don't do stupid things like this again. I need you, Cloud."

He tries to smile, but his swollen lip and eye prevent it, and he flinches instead. We shower together, once we're back in his room, and he whines as the hot water seeps over his cuts. 

"Serves you right!" I laugh as he pouts, and plants kisses along my neck. I drop to my knees on the shower floor between his legs. He groans and holds himself against the wall. 

"You don't have to do that, Aerith," he whispers. His fingers tangled in my wet hair.

I release him from my mouth with a pop and smile up at him. He groans as I stroke him in my hand. "I know, and you didn't have to fight Cory either. I'm simply expressing my gratitude."

He chuckles softly through his groans. "Well, please, express away."

I have two weeks left here. I ask Cloud to come with me, and he says it's not even a question. We ask Ryder to go with us because he still has almost five months left here, and I'm afraid to leave him alone. He says he doesn't want to impose.

"You're not imposing," Cloud says, as we pack up some of his things. 

"But you guys are gonna want your privacy, and you'll probably fuck even more than you do here because you're actually allowed to."

Cloud and I laugh. "It'll be just like old times then," I tease. Ryder snorts and rolls his eyes. 

"Alright, I'll think about it."


	5. Chapter 5

**AERITH**

Cloud presses an ice pack, covered by a thin towel, against my palms and I wince. He tsks chasing after my hands with the ice.

"I told you, you should've worn gloves," he lectures. 

I stick my tongue out at him, playfully kicking him away with the bottom of my foot, as he nurses my blistered palms. 

"Yes, I know," I sigh dramatically, "you're right about everything."

Our room is empty now. Some of the girls volunteered to pack up her things. Her parents came to pick up the boxes, for some reason they wanted her memories. They're not getting her ring, though, which is still safely secured around my thumb. They asked to meet her roommate, but I declined. Elmyra lied and told them I had left. Cloud has been staying up late studying in the dining hall. One night, I couldn't sleep, so I fell back against my old mattress and stared up at the ceiling, imagining Clara across the room on her bed, making me laugh. But when I turned to face her, expecting to see her fairy lights twisted in her headboard and strewn across her wall, surrounded by magazine photos of beautiful women and inspirational quotes—there was nothing—a dark corner with white walls. I pushed my face in the corner of my bare wall and cried until I fell asleep. 

I woke up to birds chirping, and Cloud curled up behind me. His face still looks pretty bad. He has horrible bruising on the left side, under his eye, and his lip is still cracked, a deep line blemishing his full lips running into the pale skin beneath. He's been waking himself up again lately, sweating and panting. He yells the word, 'mom,' behind closed lips, and it pains me that all I can do at that moment is hold him. He tells me it's nothing and not to worry, but I think that makes me worry more. I see Elmyra again privately due to the Cory situation. To be clear, it wasn't my choice. In fact, I didn't want to talk about it. But facility policy states it will help me 'heal.' We've been discussing my feelings and working through them, and I tell her I'm used to what he did to me.

"How did you feel about how Cloud handled it?" She asked me one afternoon. 

Cloud was taking his final tests for his GED. He's also been taking college courses for extra credits, so I haven't seen him much lately.

"You mean when he beat the shit out of Cory?" I ask. 

She laughs. "Yes, when he did that."

I tell her I'm not sure. Because I'm not. He scared me a lot at first. I had never seen that side of him, and suddenly I realized I wasn't aware of what he was capable of. Honestly, now, when I think about the heat in his eyes, and how he didn't even give it a second thought when he barreled down the hall and attacked Cory, it really turns me on. Cloud—my quiet, patient, composed, reasonable boy—lost his mind and beat the shit out of some loser who mistreated me. It's nice to be taken care of. It's nice to be protected. 

Elmyra hugs me at the end of the session, telling me she'll miss me and kisses my hair. I wasn't prepared for how much my heart would ache as she wrapped her arms around me one last time. My therapy mother, I called her. 

Ryder told us he appreciated the offer, but he's going to stay. He says he owes it to himself to complete the therapy. Now, with Clara gone and the situation with Cory, he didn't feel confident leaving. He still has a few friends here, which is good. We hold each other for a long time, standing outside the cab for Cloud and me. We laughed when we parted, our voices choked, our cheeks red, and our eyes glistening from crying.

Ryder holds his arms open towards Cloud, and says, "Come on, big guy," cheerily. Cloud rolls his eyes and steps into his arms. They pat each other's backs loudly, and Cloud promises to visit while he's still here. Before we go, the three of us walk to Clara's memorial. We planted a large white dogwood tree surrounded by fragrant lilac bushes and magenta magnolias buried in mulch. We placed a bench near the flowers, a plaque situated in the center on the back with her name. At night small solar lights shine through the leaves of the dogwood, resembling fairy lights. I shoveled without gloves for two days. The blisters on my palms were unbearable, but it was worth it. 

"This is so cool, seriously," Ryder's voice catches and cracks, "She would have loved this."

I lean against his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck. My throat burns as I try to hold back tears. I hope she knew how many people loved her. The entire facility worked day and night for two days to create something almost as beautiful as her. 

"Alright, go," he sniffles and wipes his nose on the back of his hand, "Before I change my mind and make you stay," he laughs. 

Cloud puts our bags in the trunk and hops in the backseat next to me. Neither of us has seen the apartment yet, aside from photos. I feel anxious. The cab ride is oddly quiet, and things feel different. Cloud's watching out the window, and for once, I really have no idea what he's thinking. I lean over and wrap myself under his arm. He tilts his head towards me and kisses my hair. 

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"I'm not sure. For two years, I've seen you in all the same places. I guess I'm just thinking about all the new places I hope I get to see you." 

I smile and tilt my lips up to his, kissing him softly. 

"I love you," I whisper. 

"I love you," he says into my hair. 

Our apartment is exactly 152 miles from the facility. The streetlights are on when we turn the corner to our complex. Cloud tips the cab driver as I pull the bags from the trunk. The complex is nicer than I expected. It's tucked at the end of a busy street in the heart of downtown. There's a call box and underground parking. I feel a bit like a fraud living here, which is something I'm used to. I look over at Cloud, smiling up at the building, with our bags in hand. I pull the bags away from him and twist my arms around his neck, stepping onto my tiptoes and pecking his lips. "Welcome home," I whisper. 

We're still quiet, but anticipation fills the space in the elevator. When the doors open on the twelfth floor, I squeal and skip out the doors. Stopping in front of our doorway, Cloud drops his bag and pulls mine away from me as I unlock the door. I feel his arms behind my back and my knees, and I squeal loudly as he carries me over the threshold, kicking our bags inside. He sets me down gently on the couch and lowers himself on top of me. He pushes my blouse up, just below my nipples, placing his lips on my belly button, working his way down as his right hand kneads my breast gently. I moan softly as his fingers work to unbutton my shorts. Gently shimmying my shorts and panties down my legs, he kisses the inside of my thighs and glances up at me when I push myself up onto my elbows. Our eyes stay connected when I feel his tongue inside me. We broke in our new couch in record time. 

Wearing my underwear and Cloud's t-shirt, I smile, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him unpack. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, "what?" He smirks. 

"I don't know," I exclaim. "I think I'm a little in shock that we're sitting here together right now."

The bruising under Cloud's eye has almost completely faded. There is a tiny nick left on his bottom lip that probably won't go away. When we're kissing, I drag my tongue over it, feeling the small imperfection—a constant reminder of his chivalry. 

"Still happy?" He asks. 

I tap my index finger against my chin. "Hmm, is it too late to back out of this?" I tease. 

"Oh, you're funny," he retorts, grabbing me quickly and tickling my sides, peppering kisses all over my chest. I squeal loudly and press my fingers against his cheeks, caressing them with my thumbs. I want to marry this boy more than ever, and I still can't believe he's mine. The soft sounds of sirens and cars driving past fill the silence in our apartment. We're snuggled together under our new sheets, which are soft and fuzzy and smell of linen. I have my nose pressed tight against Cloud's chest. He's snoring softly. I didn't tell him, but I was anxious about our first night away. We've never shared a bed outside of our tiny twin beds in rehab surrounded by mutual fucked up teenagers. I was worried it would be too quiet and lonely. We share a full-size bed, but we're still pressed tightly against one another. I drift off to sleep. The sounds of the city and Cloud's soft hums in my ears. 

The sun peeks in through the blinds the next morning. I turn to my side and expect to see the back of Ryder's head, but it's replaced with our small refrigerator. It makes me sad. It makes me sad how much I miss our small bedrooms and our ridiculously uncomfortable beds. I miss grabbing breakfast and coffee in the dining hall and walking around campus. It's like I don't know what to do now. The space next to me is empty and cold. I find Cloud, standing in front of the stove, a spatula in his hand. I had no idea he could cook. 

"Morning," he smiles at me when I climb out of bed. 

I pull my hair up in a messy bun and lazily slink behind him, pressing my face against his back. He's wearing his flannel pajama pants hung low on his hips, a sheer white v-neck covering his chest. Cloud is small. He's not much taller than me, and I can fully wrap and clasp my arms around his waist, but he's in such good shape—his pale, freckled skin outlining his toned biceps and stomach. He's perfect, and sometimes I wonder why he wants to be with someone like me. 

"I didn't know you could cook," I whisper into his shoulder blade, planting kisses. 

He laughs. "Well, I don't know that I would call it 'cooking,'" he says. I butter a few pieces of toast and pull plates out of the cupboard. I pour a couple glasses of orange juice, as Cloud tells me he found a market a couple blocks away. I glance up at Cloud across our small table, watching his delicate fingers wrapped around his fork, stabbing into his eggs. His tufts of hair are longer than I've ever seen as they fall over his face. He tucks them behind his ears, brightened by the sun sneaking into our small shared space. 

He glances up at me, his eyebrow lifted, and a smirk on his face. "What?" He asks. 

I shake my head and chuckle. "Nothing. I just can't wait to marry you and have your babies."

He laughs and shakes his head, his cheeks turning my favorite shade of pink. "You're kind of strange, you know that?" He asks. 

We celebrate Cloud's eighteenth birthday at the facility. After getting permission from administrators, I spoke with Ryder and Denise. They agreed to help me set up the event center. Cloud's hand was clammy as we moved towards the front doors. It's the middle of winter, as we trudge through the snow, zipped tightly into our coats and snuggled in our scarves. 

"Ready?" I turned to him, giving him the biggest smile I could, giggling at his red nose and cheeks. 

He exhaled loudly and nodded. Nothing had changed as we stepped through the doors. It had been almost a year since we'd left, but standing in the center of the atrium, I was overwhelmed. 

Cloud sees my reaction and asks what's wrong. His hands are on my face in an instant. His eyebrows knitted together, and his almond eyes wide with concern. 

"Nothing," I laugh and wipe my fingers under my eyes, careful not to disturb my makeup. 

He's unconvinced. He knows me too well. 

I shrug. "This is where we first met. It just makes me really happy is all." 

A smirk appears on his face, as it relaxes. He kisses my forehead and whispers, "I can't imagine my life without you." He holds his hand out for mine. 

Everyone's waiting, and they yell 'surprise,' as we step through the door. Even though this definitely wasn't a surprise and Cloud definitely knew what was waiting for him on the other side of the wooden double doors. 

He laughs loudly and says, 'thank you,' as everyone crowds around us, donned in birthday hats of all blue shades. Blue tablecloths covered in confetti line the three tables, balloons are tied together in every corner and a huge banner saying, 'Happy Birthday!' hangs in the back. Each table is filled with candy and cupcakes, and it looks like a child's birthday party, and I love it.

I hug Denise and Margot and a few other girls from group as we quickly catch up. I turn to glance at Cloud, who's surrounded by Ryder and a few others. At some point, someone must have put a ridiculous hat on his head, and he allowed it, and he's honestly never looked cuter.

"You two married yet?" Margot teases, catching me watching Cloud across the room.

There's music playing, and the TV's are on, but on mute. Elmyra and Marle and a few other therapists walked through the doors. 

"We just wanted to quickly say hi, and then we'll leave you kids be!" Elmyra walks towards me with her arms open.

"Oh, stop! Stay as long as you'd like!" I tell her, falling into her arms. 

"Missed you, little one," she whispers into my hair as we rock back and forth.

I refill the coolers with beverages, while the party is in full swing. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of one of the TV screens. The news is playing, and my breath catches in my throat as I recognize the man's mugshot displayed on the screen. 

I'm his princess. His precious little girl. 

I scan the subtitles and the headlines. 

MAN WHO KIDNAPPED WOMAN AND DAUGHTER RELEASED

The man is smiling and waving as he descends the steps of the courthouse. "PAROLE FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR," the subtitles say. 

Good behavior? He fucking murdered my mother and father. I can't breathe, and I can't be here anymore. I can't. My skin is crawling, and I can't get out. I don't want to be here anymore. 

Silence fills the air as I close the party room doors behind me. 

I need to be anywhere else but here. 

** CLOUD **

Ryder stands on a chair and holds a water bottle up in the air and clears his throat loudly. 

"Hear, hear!" He yells. 

"Hurry up and say what you need to, Ryder!" Denise yells. 

"Cloud, you are the strangest, quietest kid I've ever met. But you see things, and you understand, and dammit you're the best friend I've ever had. I'm so lucky to have you and Aerith, wherever the hell she is, in my life. Happy birthday, buddy! We love you, man!" 

The room erupts in cheers. 

_Hear, hear!_

_Happy birthday, Cloud!_

_We love you!_

I search around for Aerith and realize I can't find her either. I haven't seen her in a while. I see Elmyra standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, clapping and smiling. I ask if she's seen Aerith and she shrugs her shoulders. I don't like this. This isn't like Aerith. I step outside the double doors and search the halls. I check her old bedroom and my old bedroom. Empty. 

I check the dining hall and the glass tunnel and start to panic. 

Bursting through the front doors, I run towards the falls. The cold air nips harshly at my skin. I'm yelling her name now, my breath visible in front of me. It's quiet outside, aside from my hurried footsteps and screaming. Our spot is empty. Clara's memorial is empty. I yell her name again, cupping my hands around my mouth. Fresh steps head further down the falls, and I follow after them. The steps seem hurried at first, far apart, like someone was running. As I get closer to the water, they become more sluggish. A pile of honey-brown hair catches my eye in the water. She's curled in a ball, facing away from me. 

When I reach her and lift her out of the water, her wet hair is sticking to me. She's freezing, and she feels too heavy. Her head rolls towards me as I carry her quickly inside. Her lips are blue, her eyes slightly open and lifeless. My voice chokes out as I push myself hard against the double doors. Everyone crowds around her quickly, and I don't want them to. I hold on to her as tightly as I can. Marle yells that an ambulance is on the way. Elmyra tries to pull Aerith from my grasp. 

"Cloud?" she says carefully. "We need to get these wet clothes off of her."

I feel tears trickling down and dripping off my face and I shake my head. 

"Cloud, stop!" Denise grabs my arm.

"We have fresh towels and blankets, Cloud. Let's get her somewhere private," Elmyra continues.

It bothers me how careful Elmyra's being. She's talking to me like I'm a child. I'm not a child. I just don't want to let Aerith go, because if I do, I might very well lose her again. 

Elmyra and Denise strip Aerith's wet clothes off in Elmyra's office. I pulled blankets from the linen closet. I feel sick, walking back into the office, seeing Aerith's naked, limp body leaning against them. I hand them the blankets, and Elmyra carefully wraps them around her. 

"Cloud, you have to breathe," Elmyra tells me and gently pushes Aerith towards me. I grip her tightly and fall to the floor, her head heavy on my shoulder. Elmyra and Denise sit behind me. Elmyra rubs my back as Denise wraps her arms around me until the ambulance arrives. 

Elmyra told the doctors and nurses I was Aerith's boyfriend and the only family she had, but they still wouldn't let me see her until she had stabilized. They told us her body temperature had reached 87 degrees. She was in a hypothermic state. They asked us how no one had noticed she had wandered off for close to an hour, and I dropped my face in my hands because I should have known. But I was too focused on the stupid fucking birthday party to even notice she had left. 

Her hands are still cold, but the color had returned to her lips. She didn't look right, her small, fragile body tucked into the hospital bed. The sounds of machines beeping and whirring. Her eyes fluttered open slowly as I kissed both her hands. 

"Hey," she whispered, smiling. 

I whispered her name, cradling her face in my hands and kissing her warm lips desperately. 

"Easy there, Casanova," she giggled and pushed her hands against my chest. 

"You're okay?" I whisper, sitting back on the chair, caressing her knuckles with my thumbs. 

"Yes, I'm okay," she rubbed her thumb across my cheek. "I'm sorry if I worried you." 

Sorry if she worried me? I couldn't breathe. My entire body felt like it was giving out on me. I couldn't think straight and she's sorry if she worried me? 

I stood quickly, releasing her hands. She frowned, her eyebrows pinched together as she reached after me. 

"What's the matter?" she asked. 

"Sorry if you worried me? Aerith, I was a fucking mess." I feel the heat rise in my chest, and my hands shaking. 

"Cloud, I'm so-" she started. 

"No, you don't get to talk right now. That was selfish and careless what you did. You realize that, right?" 

She sat up higher, her eyebrows pinching even further together. "Excuse you?" 

"There are people here who care about you, Aerith. People who would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you."

"I know that," she whispered. 

"Do you? Because you obsess over these people who hurt you or people who are dead, but what about the people who are still alive and the people who care about you? What about me, Aerith?"

"What about you?"

"You told me I was impulsive when I went after Cory and that I couldn't do that, because you needed me. Well, I need you too. " 

"Cloud," she called after me as I walked towards the door. 

"I'm glad you're okay," I say, shutting the door behind me. 


	6. Chapter 6

**AERITH**

Elmyra helps me home, one hand on my elbow the entire way to our bed. 

Our bed. 

I don't know where Cloud is, and quite honestly, I don't care. He left me alone in a hospital room after telling me I wasn't allowed to talk. I don't know who that person was, but if it's any glimpse into our future, I don't want it. I don't even understand what happened. Everything was fine, and then he lost his mind again. He hadn't even bothered asking me what happened. He just immediately blamed me for being selfish. I'm not selfish. I'm not the one who stands there and tells people when they can and can't talk. 

Fucking asshole. 

Another controlling entitled man. 

I should have known better. 

Elmyra helps me into my pajamas and pulls the covers up to my neck, pushing my bangs off my forehead. The humming of the refrigerator is loud, and I want to cry and scream at myself for missing him. Elmyra tells me he stormed out of the waiting room. Stormed out like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

Elmyra stands from the bed, offering to make me tea. Moments later, I hear the kettle hiss and I close my eyes tightly. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" She asks. 

Everything, I want to tell her. I wonder what Clara would say. She was always standing up for Cloud, but would she this time? I'll admit, most of our arguments were me overreacting. Not him. I can admit that. He's supposed to be the rational, calm one. He's not supposed to be the one who barrels down hallways and beats people up. He's not supposed to be the one who storms out after yelling at a girl, a girl who happens to be his girlfriend. It doesn't matter. He yelled at me. I don't need another man yelling at me, telling me what I can and can't do. He was supposed to be different, but he's not.

"Nothing," I tell her. 

**CLOUD**

I wince as my back hits the chair. My muscles ache as I try to flex my foot to relieve the tension in my calf. 

I close my eyes tightly, rotating my ankle. 

"How's that futon treating you?" Ryder snorts, spinning the sleeve on his coffee cup with his fingers. 

Ryder moved out of the facility months ago into a small one-bedroom apartment. It's on the basement level and in a pretty shady area, but he's letting me stay here for free for the time being. 

I shrug. "It's fine," I lied. "Honestly, I'm just thankful you're letting me stay with you."

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. There's not much around his apartment, but four blocks away is a small café with decent coffee—a hipster spot with mismatched chairs and brightly colored tapestries hanging from the walls. They must be big fans of Bob Marley because I've heard his songs about a thousand times now. I take a long swig of my coffee and run my fingers through my hair. I finally got it cut, and the lack of hair that usually sifts through my fingers is still taking some getting used to. 

"Of course, man," Ryder says. "You talk to her yet?"

He means Aerith, and no, I haven't. It's been two weeks since I stormed out of the hospital. I'm still angry about it. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed at her or myself, though. I yelled at her, and I was cruel, but I was angry. She thinks because her life means nothing to her, it shouldn't mean anything to anyone else. But her life means everything to me, and it frustrates me how careless she is with it. Margot and Denise live the closest to us. About a twenty-minute bus ride. They've stopped by to see her a few times, and they tell me she's doing alright, but they know she misses me, and I just need to 'man up' and call her. 

I don't know what that means. Honestly, that's probably the last thing Aerith wants, and what would I even say?

I shake my head, and Ryder sighs loudly.

I kick my shoes off and release a sigh of relief, falling back against the futon, once we're back in his apartment. 

He laughs. "Man, you can stay as long as you want, but you might wanna swallow your pride soon and go home before that futon kills you."

"I'm fine," I mutter. 

"I love Aerith, and you two are honestly the best friends I've ever had. I mean, I've heard you fucking more times than I can count."

I glance at my feet, my cheeks burning. 

"My point is, you're not fine, Cloud, and neither is she. You both have a lot of growing up to do always saying 'you're fine.' It's okay not to be, you know?"

"I get it, Ryder. But really, I'm fine."

Both his eyebrows raise, and he leans forward in his chair. "You think waking up gasping and screaming is 'fine?' You think avoiding your girlfriend for two weeks and camping out on some shitty futon is 'fine?'"

He sits back and shakes his head.

"I can't control what I dream about, and I'm not avoiding her." I scoff. 

"It's not fucking normal, man. You're not over their deaths, even when you act like you are. You know, I used to dream of Clara sometimes, and I'd wake up, and my face would be wet, and this hole in my heart would ache." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be, because they're already getting better. I dream of her, and I get to see her face, hear her voice, and I wake up smiling. When you have these nightmares about your mom and your friend, you have to try to control them—understand it's just a nightmare, and things will get better."

I shake my head. He doesn't understand. 

"I'm not dreaming about my mom or Zack."

Ryder's face relaxes, his eyebrows are pinched, and he's frowning. 

"They're about Aerith," I admit, "I'm scared, okay? Tifa told me death follows me wherever I go. That people can't help but die when they're near me." 

"She was wrong, man. She's an idiot. What does she know?"

"But, what if she's not? What if she's right?"

"Can I tell you something, Cloud?" 

I nod. 

"You remember me telling you about the friend who shot himself?"

I nod again. 

"Everyone thinks I started doing heroin because he killed himself because that's what I tell them, but that's not true. I didn't start doing heroin because he died. I started it when he was alive."

"Okay?" 

"I would have done anything for him. I was in love with him, and when his dad caught us together, it was bad. It was really bad. That's why he shot himself."

He paused and looked up at me, waiting for a response. But I wasn't sure what to say, so he sighed and continued. 

"My parents never knew. But they found shit in my room and talked to a therapist, and he told them I was a drug addict, so I ended up in rehab. I was gonna kill myself when I got there. I missed him, and I didn't want to be there. I had it all planned out, and it was perfect because I had the room to myself. But then you showed up, and I was pissed. You ruined everything." 

"I couldn't tell." 

"Because I realized, man, that maybe you being there was supposed to happen. Maybe you were sent as like a fucking guardian angel or something, I don't know. I just knew I didn't wanna kill myself anymore." 

"Is this the part where you tell me you're in love with me?" I joked. 

"Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type," he stood, laughing and ruffling my hair. 

"My point is, you're not this angel of death that some girl told you you were, Cloud. See, you saved me, and you saved Aerith too. So, stop being a little bitch, and go call the girl you love already."

**AERITH**

The longest I spent without seeing Cloud from the moment we met was three days. I told him I liked his freckles and cried against his shirt. I asked if he wanted to see me naked. He said, 'maybe, someday,' but only if I wanted him to. I can't really explain it. He looked at me differently than anyone else did, and I believed him when he said only if I want him to. He was cute, adorable. He was soft, his features this perfect mixture of masculine and feminine. His almond eyes were outlined in long, thick eyelashes, and he had these plump, soft lips, and high cheekbones. I honestly wasn't sure if I wanted to look like him or fuck him. 

I've had crushes before. Boys that I thought were cute who would smile at me. I would smile back, and they would pull on my hand and push me gently into dark corners. Once they had what they wanted from me, the crush was over, and I never really thought about them again. But I couldn't stop thinking about Cloud. Three days had passed, and I tried to stop thinking about him. I found myself searching for that crazy pile of blonde hair everywhere I looked. I felt like I was going crazy. 

I found out he was rooming with Ryder. Clara had met Cloud his first day in rehab, so I snuck into their room, climbed into his bed, and shoved my hand down his pants, because that's what you do with crushes. He grabbed my hand and held it until we fell asleep. I think I knew I loved him then. 

It's been seventeen days since I've seen Cloud. It's been seventeen days since I've spoken to Cloud. I miss him, and I toss and turn at night because he's not there. After finally falling asleep one night, I wake up to absolutely nothing. Not the soft snores from Cloud or the feel of his warm arms around me. Not the back of Ryder's head or Clara's arm hanging over her bed. I'm alone. I'm all alone with nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of cars driving past. My chest tightens, and my eyes well with tears. If I knew what a heart attack felt like, I was pretty sure I was having one. I thought about calling the police or calling Cloud, but I didn't want to worry either of them if I was overreacting. I called Elmyra. 

"You need to breathe, Aerith. Long deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth," she tells me I'm having a panic attack as I grasp my chest tightly. 

In through the nose—one, two, three.

Out through the mouth—one, two, three.

"Better?" She asks as the line went silent. 

"Will I ever be better, Elmyra?"

"You remember when you first came here, love? You were so happy, we thought you might have been on drugs when you got here. We received your files, and we knew your background, but you were _so_ happy. Beaming and wanting to redecorate and paint every wall, you remember?"

I laughed through tears that had fallen. "Yes," 

"The first time you cried in front of me, Aerith. I was so happy. Because for the first time, you were honest, not only with me but yourself. You're getting better, dear. I promise," she whispers.

She stays on the phone with me until I fall asleep. 

My phone rang on a Wednesday, I was picking up dinner at the market. The air caught in my throat and I started coughing when his name flashed. I swiped my thumb across the screen. 

"Hi," I breathed. 

"How are you?" His voice sounded too quiet and far away. 

"I'm fine. I'm picking up dinner. How's Ryder's?"

"It's fine. Aerith, I'm really sorry about everything. I was stupid, and I'm sorry."

"You know you're terrible at apologies."

"I'm terrible at a lot of things."

"No, you're not. You're wonderful at a lot of things, but the whole 'I'm stupid I'm sorry' is getting kind of old."

"Right."

I thought hearing his voice would be comforting. I've wanted to listen to it for over three weeks. But now that I am, I'm frustrated. I want to throw my phone hard against the tile floor, and I wonder why that is. 

"You stormed out and left me sitting in a hospital alone after throwing a tantrum like a toddler." My voice cracked as I set my basket down and stepped outside. 

"That's not exactly what happened. But I get it, and I'm sorry."

"No, that is exactly what happened. You yelled at me, Cloud. That happened. Do you really not remember? You never even fucking bothered to ask me what happened."

"I'm sorry."

I sighed loudly. "You're always sorry, Cloud. And I'm getting really tired of your bullshit apologies. You know the man who kidnapped my mother and me? The one who shot my dad and my mom? He's out on parole. I saw it. On TV that day, so I'm sorry that I lost it for a minute and left," the sarcasm was heavy in my voice, and I could just imagine him flinching on the other end. 

"Aerith, I-"

"No. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Not with you. You yelled at me. That's now two times that you've turned into someone who scared me. I don't like that. I don't like you right now."

"I don't want to scare you, Aerith."

"I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

I dropped my phone in my bag, took two steps to the door, turned around, and pulled my phone out quickly. 

It rang twice before he picked up. 

"Hi," he answered. 

"Will you please come home?" I choked out. "I miss you."

"Okay."

A few hours later, he knocked on the door as I finished cooking dinner. In classic Cloud fashion, he knocks on the door to his own apartment. I open the door to the saddest, guiltiest face I've ever seen and a huge bouquet of bright flowers in his hand. 

I tell him I'm sorry and throw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I missed him. I was lying when I said I didn't. And when he whispered, 'I missed you' in my ear, I realized how much I had craved his perfect voice. I pulled the flowers from his hand and set them on the ledge by the door, dragging him into the apartment by his collar and falling against the bed. Our lips are rough against each other, as I pull him on top of me. Cloud's too careful, and I don't want him to be. 

"Touch me, please," I beg, nibbling at his jaw. 

He pulls back and licks his lips. "I'm scared," he admits, "I don't want to hurt you." He stands and runs his fingers through his hair, which I know is one of his nervous ticks. Sitting up, the space is suddenly too quiet. I say his name as he glances over at me, still standing awkwardly. I pat the empty space next to me until he carefully sits. 

I pull on his fist and hold it against my chest. 

"Cloud, I'm really sorry." He keeps glancing away as I try to meet his eyes. 

"I didn't think about how you must have felt. If I had found you in the same situation, I would have kicked your ass." I laughed. 

"I'm really sorry for how I reacted. You were right, Cloud. Truly, you were. I should have found you or found someone else instead of wandering off."

"B-but, I yelled at you," he whispered to his feet. 

"Who cares? I yell at you all the time," I say, kissing his fingers. 

He scoffs. "I don't want to scare you, Aerith, and it kills me that you said that."

"Hey," I drop his hand and cradle his face, forcing him to look at me. "You don't scare me. I mean sometimes, I guess. But that's my fault, not yours. You're allowed to have emotions, and you're allowed to react Cloud. You were scared and angry, and you reacted. There's nothing wrong with that."

He pulls his face away and turns to stand up. He's not convinced. I reach after his hand catching his fingers. 

"Cloud, I love you, and I know you would never hurt me. Really, deep down, I know you would never hurt me. You're not even capable of it."

He nods, a twitching smirk appears on his lips. 

"Now, will you please touch me and fuck me like crazy for the rest of the night?" I ask, pouting, pulling his hand back towards the bed. 

And like the kind, gentle, attentive, caring boyfriend he is, he did just that. 

The sun's rays danced over his face and through his hair the next morning. He was lying on his stomach, with his arm near his face. I pressed my fingertips softly against his cheek and eyelashes. 

"Hi," he whispered, rubbing his eyes open. 

"You cut your hair," I say, pushing his bangs off his forehead. 

"You didn't notice?"

"I was a little distracted," I admit, burying myself under his arm. 

"Should we talk about everything?" He asks, rubbing the heel of his palm in his eyes. 

My groans are muffled under his arm as I tell him 'no.' 

"But Aerith," he mocks our therapists' tones at the facility, "we can't heal if we can't openly speak about it, and we can't grow if we can't heal." 

"Oh, is that right?" I ask, pushing his arms up behind his head, swinging my leg over his hips and settling on top of him. "You know you're pretty sexy when you talk like that," I whisper, nibbling his ear and earning a groan. He tries to pull his arms down, but I'm holding them tightly. I know if he really tried, he could quickly overtake my grip, but he's humoring me, and I love him for that. I work my way from his ear to his mouth, holding his bottom lip in between my teeth and smiling because I won this round. I rock my hips back and forth and reach for his pajama pants, and he moves his hand quickly, his fingers circling my wrist. 

"I think we should talk about it," he says. 

"Ugh, Cloud. What's to talk about?" I ask, pressing my tongue and lips against his neck. 

"All of it," he says, grabbing my hands and pushing me up. 

"You said I scared you, and you didn't like me. I don't want you to ever feel that way about me." 

"Fine, I won't," I say, trying to push myself back down to him. 

"Aerith," his tone is stern. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth a straight line, as he holds my wrists firmly. "You said you were afraid of me. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?" 

"I'm sorry," I mutter, dropping my head. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want to understand exactly why you felt that way, so I don't do it again, and you don't feel that way again." 

I crawled off him, huffing as my feet hit the floor. "I don't know, Cloud!" I yelled, throwing my hands up. "It's like eight in the morning, do we really need to talk about this right now?"

"No, I guess not," he muttered, sitting up and crossing his arms behind his head.

"We'll talk about it later," I say, leaning over him and nuzzling into his neck. "I promise." 

**CLOUD**

"This isn't the type of information you want to share with people, understood?" 

The nameplate on his desk said, Devon. I don't remember him introducing himself, but maybe he did, and I just wasn't paying enough attention. I walked here, and people must have noticed this because most arrived out front in town cars. I wore probably the nicest clothes I own, a long-sleeved dark blue turtleneck sweater with dark pants. I still feel completely out of place. 

The woman at the front desk was kind, but she told me I had the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen, and it made me uncomfortable. She escorted me to a small office and said he would be right in. Devon belongs here. He's in a perfectly tailored grey suit, black hair slicked back, and a clean-shaven face. 

"I live with my girlfriend," I tell him. 

He has a handful of pictures on his desk. He's posed next to a tall blonde woman. I assume she's his wife judging by the poses and the gold band on his left hand. He makes a lot of money. Or at least he wants people to think he does. In one photo, he's sitting behind the woman on a giant elephant. Another they're on a beach, the woman clad in a small pink bikini, and in another, they're wrapped in scarves and large coats standing on skis. 

"You're not married?"

I shake my head. "No, sir. I'm eighteen."

"Right," he shuffles pages around, and I wonder how much he knows about me. "Any way you can keep it from her?"

"I need to?"

He laughs. "Let me teach you a little lesson I learned the hard way, kid. Women love money. They love money more than they'll ever love you."

"What about the woman in your photos?"

He guffaws, it echoes throughout his small office. " _She_ especially loves money."

He walks around and sits at the edge of his desk in front of me. "Listen, kid. I like you. I can tell you're in way over your head here. This is _a lot_ of money. If you have to tell her anything, tell her a substantially smaller amount."

"I don't think I'd be able to lie to her," I mutter. 

He laughs louder, making me feel more self-conscious than ever. 

"Cloud, right?" He asks. 

I nod. 

"You seem like a sweet kid, but I _promise_ you, she's already lying to you about something."

I picked up a couple coffees on my way home from the bank. Aerith is sitting out on our small balcony, her ankles crossed and resting on the ledge. I bought her a few pots of different sizes to grow her flowers, which are scattered and staggered around the balcony. I called it a stand-in, for the time being, until I can get her a real garden. 

"You should hurry and get out of here," she calls out. Her eyes still closed, her head leaning against the back of the chair as her long thick hair nearly touches the ground. "My boyfriend will be home any minute."

Setting the coffees on the small table next to her, I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her temple. "Is that so?" I whisper in her ear. 

She hums happily, rubbing my arm. 

"What would he do if he found us together?" My voice is low and husky, and I know it's affecting her because her breaths are heavy. I let my thumb rub over her nipple through her thin top. She leans her head back against me and moans. 

"Trust me, you don't want to find out," she whispers. I feel the warmth of her tongue and breath against my neck, the fabric of my pants is already incredibly restricting. 

"Guess we better hurry then," I say, pulling her off the chair and throwing her over my shoulder. She squeals as I drop her on the bed. 

I want to tell her everything, and for the first time since I've known her, I'm not sure if I should. 

She's curled up on the couch, her head nestled in my lap, asleep. We picked up a pizza and a few movies and spent the evening in. I've hardly been paying attention to the movie, my thoughts racing as she readjusts in my lap. My fingers fall to her hair instinctively, and she hums, a small smile forming on her lips as I move my fingers through her hair. 

What would she even think? Would she care? Aerith is not a greedy person. She doesn't take advantage of people. I trust her completely, but something Devon said, the way he laughed, like I had missed something big, made me worry. She knows me well at this point, and the next morning she asks me what's wrong. I tell her nothing. She crosses her arms and pouts, walking away from me. 

"Aerith?" She stops and glances over her shoulder, her eyebrow lifted.

"I have to tell you something."

**AERITH**

Cloud tells me before his mother died, the two of them had claimed to feel lightheaded with the faint scent of gas wafting through the air in their home. She had called an inspector who claimed nothing was wrong. Two days later, Cloud's mother had asked him to bring in the mail. As he walked back down the street, his home in view, a crackling and explosive sound filled his ears, as his home for fourteen years burst into flames. He swears he heard his mother scream as he dropped helplessly to the ground. His neighbors came running as women gasped and held their hands over their mouths—people yelling back and forth, asking if anyone had called the police. Cloud remembered a small woman placing her hands on his shoulders and pressing him tight against her chest. He says he doesn't remember crying. He's sure he did, but he doesn't remember. Sitting in the back of an ambulance, he remembers the smell of burning flesh as the small woman held his hand. He remembered seeing her around the neighborhood. She had two small children, much younger than Cloud. He wondered where they were. He wondered how much pain his mother was in before she died. The police told him it was good news because a blunt object must have hit her in the head, knocking her unconscious. So, she more than likely didn't feel anything after that. I'm sure that's the type of good news any fourteen-year-old boy who just witnessed his home burst into flames with his mother inside wants to hear. 

The police said it would have been impossible for Cloud to have heard his mother screaming, but that doesn't stop him from imagining it most nights. The city called for a thorough investigation of the company that sent the inspector to Cloud's house. It was determined that the inspector should have caught the gas immediately. The man was fired, and the city sued the company for wrongful death. Because Cloud had no one left, his mother being the only living relative they could find, he was in court a lot and even appeared on TV. The company settled, and $64 million was awarded to Cloud for the death of his mother. Money that he would not be able to access until his eighteenth birthday.

Sixty-four million dollars. 

"My financial advisor told me not to tell you or anybody for that matter," he tells me. 

"That makes sense," I breathe, nodding, in a daze. "What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, you can afford a much nicer place than this. You could go anywhere you wanted. Be with anyone you wanted."

"I don't want anything to change. If I'm moving to a nicer place or going anywhere, I want it to be with you."

"Cloud," I'm not sure why I'm getting so upset. "I don't understand."

"You don't understand what?"

"You could do so much better than me. I'm a mess, and I'm terrible for you. You deserve everything, and I feel like I'm always holding you back."

"That's not true. Aerith, I wish I could change the way you see yourself. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. There's no one better than you."

"How could you possibly know that? Cloud, I'm the only person you've ever kissed or fucked! You have no idea what you could be missing out on."

He chuckles. "I'm not missing anything."

"You don't know that."

"Why are you pushing me away?"

"Because you deserve better than me! I'm selfish, keeping you."

"What are you talking about? Is this about the money?"

"No! Maybe," I sigh. "I don't know."

He pulls me close to him and bends down to meet my eye line, cradling my face in his hands. 

"I'll give it all away. I don't care about any of that. All of it is meaningless without you."

**CLOUD**

We don't talk about the money after that. Things have changed between Aerith and me, and I wonder if that's what Devon meant. She insists on paying for everything herself. Usually, when I pick up groceries or coffees, she doesn't offer to pay me back, but now she does. 

Our small table is filled with college brochures and informational packets. I spent the entire afternoon filling out applications in the library. We've talked about going to the nearest campus, a few blocks away. I think we just want to keep our options open. I offer to pay for Aerith's college and applications. It seems silly to me for her not to let me pay for it. I have more money than I would even know what to do with. She tells me, "absolutely not," and gets a job at the coffee shop we frequent. I don't see her much anymore. 

The night before our anniversary, I ask her boss if she can have the night off so I can take her out. He nods and tells me, 'good luck.' Her boss called her the next day and told her they weren't very busy, and she didn't need to come in. It took me weeks, but I finally got tickets to The Starlight Gardens. It's here every year, and her eyes light up every time we walk by posters or busses pass with advertisements for it. It's essentially a carnival featuring the world's most extensive gardens.

Her hand grips mine tightly, the air catches in her throat, and her other hand falls to her chest when we step beneath the awning. She runs forward away from me as I hand our tickets to the woman under the canopy. She smiles at Aerith's childlike excitement. Aerith's standing with her forearms resting against a railing facing one of the gardens. She hums happily, resting her head back against my shoulder when I walk up behind her, and I wrap my arms around her waist. 

"Who's this one?" I whisper in her ear. The Starlight Gardens have a different theme every year. This year, there are twenty-three gardens, each tells the story of constellations. 

"Andromeda," she whispers, closing her eyes. There are bright flowers representing stars in the shape of a large 'V.' Outside those stars is a woman with chains on her wrists. 

"She was Cassiopeia's daughter. Cassiopeia was an incredibly vain woman who claimed she was the most beautiful. Poseidon, the god of the seas, was incredibly offended by her statement. He created this horrible, giant sea monster and told her she had to sacrifice her only daughter to the sea monster. Andromeda was chained to a rock in the sea and left to await her demise. A man named Perseus arrived, after defeating Medusa. He showed the head of Medusa to the sea monster, it immediately turned to stone. He fell in love with Andromeda, and they married. She ruled as his queen until the day she died. After both of their deaths, they were placed in the sky next to one another, to be together forever." 

Aerith turns towards me, her cheeks are wet, and she nuzzles her face in my chest. "Thank you," she whispers, fisting my shirt. 

There's a small ice cream stand on the outskirts of the gardens. Aerith holds my hand, as we wait in line, and chuckles as children chase after one another. She's not paying attention when the girl working at the stand hands me two cones, so I take hers and press the tip of the ice cream cone against her nose. She squeals and grabs it from my hand, chasing after me. When I let her catch me, she wipes the ice cream in her cone against my entire cheek and licks it off. 

"I love you," I tell her, pulling her mouth towards mine. 

"I love you too," she says. When I think back on it now, I wish I would have noticed it then. When I told her I loved her, she looked sad. Her eyebrows pinched together, and she frowned. We left around ten when the garden lights started to turn off one by one. She said she was tired when we got home, and she fell asleep quickly, facing away from me. I was busy with classes during the first few days of the new semester, and she was busy with work. Her boss had talked her into selling her artwork online. He had told her to advertise them at the coffee shop, which stirred a lot of interest. 

She told me she didn't think school was for her, and I nodded as she picked up more hours at the shop. The last morning I saw her, I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her and that I would probably be late getting home. She told me that was fine and to have a good day. I tried to call her a few times and text her throughout the day, and she never responded. I assumed she was just busy with painting or with work or didn't have her phone on her. It was late when I left the school library, around eleven, I think. It was quiet behind our apartment door, so I opened it as carefully as I could, not surprised by the darkness. The sliver of light coming in from the streetlights outside reflected against our bed and the kitchen. Something felt wrong. I didn't see her outline in bed, and the apartment felt emptier. I switched on the small light under the microwave. She wasn't there, and neither were any of her things. I spotted a sheet of notebook paper on the table. 

_I'm sorry. Please don't try to find me. I hope you understand._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to reiterate how thankful I am for the love and constant support I've received writing this story. It means the world to me! You are all so wonderful and amazing and don't ever forget it! :)

** CLOUD  **

It's spring, when I glance at the calendar, noticing three years have passed since she left. Some days are okay, really. Most days suck. I didn't listen to her. I tried to look for her. I tried to call her. No one had seen her, and she changed her number. There were moments when I thought about hiring a private investigator. After talking to Ryder, he convinced me that it was too much. I started hanging out with a girl who works at the coffee shop near Ryder's apartment. She and I actually live in the same building. She helps pass the time most nights, and she's very kind and smart. She smokes a lot of weed, which doesn't bother me much, but the smell lingers in her apartment. She doesn't know I was in rehab. She doesn't know about Aerith, and I don't want her to. She cares a lot about the environment. She only eats organic, and she doesn't eat meat. I asked her how she affords her lifestyle working at a coffee shop. She laughed, and I realized she thought I was telling a joke. 

Her mouth tastes like cigarettes, but her teal dreadlocks are cool. Sometimes, when she talks, I feel like a different person—an intellectual. I changed my major to computer science. I never cared much for psychology, and I only did it for Aerith anyway. Seeing as she's not here anymore, she doesn't get a say. I feel stupid because, with each birthday of hers that passed, I whispered 'Happy Birthday, Aerith,' to the empty air around me, turned off the lights and fell asleep alone. The girl at the coffee shop tells me I talk in my sleep. It used to scare her, but now she thinks it's cute. She thinks I don't know that I do this and I let her think that. 

She says I'm very talented with my fingers and tongue, and I can't help but silently thank Aerith, even though it makes me think of her, and I don't like thinking about her. I just hope she's okay. The first night me and the girl at the coffee shop had sex, I was out with my friends for my twenty-first birthday. The cabs dropped me off at the front doors of my apartment. I stumbled in and up the stairs. She popped her head out after I fell down the stairs and laughed. She asked if I was okay and I told her it was my birthday and that I was fine and I asked her to come over. 

I blame the alcohol because it took me almost a year to let Aerith know how I felt about her, and I was in love with her the second I saw her. We had sex. I only know this because we woke up naked in my bed the next morning. I don't remember inviting her over, but she tells me the story. Once, she asked me if I remembered having sex with her that night and that she feels like a horrible rapist because she didn't realize how drunk I was. I tell her I remember it, so she doesn't feel bad. I bring over terrible organic food to her apartment a couple nights a week, and we talk and have sex, and I go home alone. I don't like spending the night with her. That sounds mean, and it has nothing to do with her. I just don't sleep well when she's next to me.

My new apartment is pretty far from campus, but it's closer to Ryder, Denise, and Margot. Denise and Margot are engaged. Everyone was there when Denise proposed, and it made me sad that Aerith wasn't and that she doesn't even know. But that's her fault. That's her fault for disappearing and abandoning everyone. I don't like how much I miss her. I don't like how sometimes I imagine her walking through the door. Her bright green eyes staring up at me and telling me she's sorry as I run my fingers through her thick hair, and she tells me she loves me, standing on her tiptoes to meet my mouth. But it's been three years, and she hasn't come back. 

My phone vibrates while I'm studying in the library. Ryder tells me to call him. I step outside into the crisp night air and dial his number. 

"Yes?" I ask. 

"Dude. I'm gonna tell you something. But I need you to promise you'll listen and not overreact."

"Well, now you've planted the idea in my head."

"I'm serious, Cloud."

"Okay, what?"

"Some of my buddies from work. Jay and his friends? You remember? You met them?"

"Yeah?"

"They swear they saw her, man."

"Where?" My voice chokes out. 

"This is where I need you to calm down. Because it sounds worse than it is."

"Ryder," I'm growing impatient. 

"The Honeybee Inn. She works there."

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's like uh-a burlesque lounge."

"Like a strip club?"

"I didn't say strip club, you did. They said she served them. I think she just serves drinks."

My stomach drops, and I taste bile in my throat.

"Where is this place?" I ask, walking back in the library and grabbing my things. 

"Cloud, come on. What are you even gonna do if you find out it's her?"

"I don't know. Drag her out and bring her home. I haven't thought much about it yet."

Ryder sighs through the earpiece. "Cloud, you can't just bust your way in there and pull her out. Security would be on you immediately."

"I don't care." I balance the phone on my shoulder against my ear and grab my backpack, heading outside towards my bike. 

"Cloud. Christ, alright. I'm coming to get you. We'll go together, okay?"

"Fine."

The Honeybee Inn is located four towns over. It's tucked at the end of a street, a literal rathole camouflaged by neon lights. Two men dressed in glittery yellow suits hold the doors open for us. It's so bright I have to squint, and I feel a headache coming on. People are chatting and drinking around a bar and lounge area. A woman dressed in a thin dress is seated at a grand piano in the corner, playing relaxing music. 

"Pretty nice, huh?" Ryder says. 

"No," I say. 

The women working are dressed in bras, their stomachs bare, in see-through fishnet leggings and black high heels. The most ridiculous is the giant bumblebee stinger on their back ends. Their faces are covered in pageant makeup, their hair curled and sprayed in place. I scan the room for any cocktail waitresses. None of them are her. Part of me wants to find her. Part of me doesn't. She wouldn't really work in a place like this, would she? Is this really where she's been all this time? 

Ryder and I turn our heads when we hear loud cheering behind large double doors. 

"What is that?" I ask the bartender. 

"The show's starting," he says nonchalantly, filling a glass for Ryder. 

"Show?"

He laughs and touches my cheek. "First time here, sweetheart?" 

"That obvious?" I mutter. 

"Check it out," he nods towards the doors and turns to help others holding bills out at him impatiently. 

Another man in a yellow suit stops us as we move towards the door. "Any honey boy or honey girl catch your eye?"

"A girl named Aerith, does she work here?" I ask, becoming increasingly more annoyed. 

"Who?"

"Aerith. She has long, thick brown curly hair. Green eyes. Tall, thin, beautiful."

"Oh, Aerith? I think she's serving tonight. She's usually pretty popular. I'll have to check the list to see if we can squeeze you in."

"Hold on, list? What do you mean list?"

"If the price is right. We're happy to reserve some alone time for you and the sweet honey girl who's caught your eye?"

"How much for the night?" I ask. 

"Cloud!" Ryder yells at me. 

I put my hand up to shush him and repeat myself. "How much for the whole night?"

The man stammered. 

"$50,000?"

"Cloud!" Ryder yells. 

"$60,000?"

"Cloud!"

"Sir, I would have to check with our managers to approve this." The man says. 

"Do that. She doesn't go alone with anyone but me, you understand?" I say and walk past him. 

"What the hell, man?" Ryder yells, jogging after me. "Are you insane?" 

"I don't know. Probably." I say, scanning the large auditorium. Booths shaped like honeycombs are facing a stage. Near the edges of the hall, stairs ascend to a second and third floor. It's loud, and spotlights keep moving around the room in a pattern that's impossible to focus on anything. 

"Dude? You can't afford that! If you don't pay, they'll probably break your kneecaps or some crazy mafia shit. I don't know, man!"

"It's fine," I say, walking around, my eyes narrowed.

I hear her laugh, and I feel sick. I recognize her instantly from behind. She's across the room, leaning against the edge of a booth taking orders for a group of men. Their mouths are slack as they ogle her. The man closest to her has his hand on her ass, and my head pounds. My vision is blurry. I feel the heat rising from my feet to my ears. Why is she here? 

I hear Ryder curse behind me as I push through groups of people.

"Don't fucking touch her," I warned through gritted teeth, reaching Aerith and pulling the disgusting man's hand off her and moving her behind me. 

"Cloud?" She yells. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I mutter, still staring at the man. 

"Whoa, buddy, calm down." I nearly lunge at him until Aerith grabs my arm.

"Stop it. Come with me," she hisses. 

I barely recognize her as she pulls me around a corner into a back alley. My ears are ringing as silence fills the space we're in. She's crossing her arms and tapping her foot. Her face is full of makeup. Her breasts are pushed up high, her flat stomach on full display. A small black patch between her legs underneath the fishnet stockings leaves nothing to the imagination. 

"What are you doing here?" She yells at me. 

"No, what are you doing here?" I ask. 

"That's none of your business, Cloud. You don't own me. You don't get to show up at my place of work and start attacking customers."

"I wasn't attacking anyone."

"Really? Because you put your hands on someone, do you not remember that?"

"He had his hands all over you!"

"He's allowed to do that, Cloud. It's innocent."

"It's not innocent, and I don't like you being here."

"I don't like _you_ being here," she pokes me in the chest. "I want you to leave."

"I don't want to leave without you."

She scoffs and throws her hands up. "You are not the boss of me. You do not own me, and you sure as shit don't get to tell me what to do."

"I'm not trying to, Aerith! Please, just come with me."

"No. Now go away, or I'll tell security you're harassing me."

"Aerith!" I call after her. 

"Go home, Cloud." She says, opening the door and closing it behind her. 

I completely forget about Ryder as I make my way to the front desk.

I throw my hands down on the counter, gaining the receptionist's attention. "Aerith. I want Aerith for the entire night."

"Ah, yes. I was told you might be back. I believe $60,000 was the agreed amount?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Excellent, sir. I just need you to fill out this paperwork."

"Paperwork for what?"

"Liability policies and preferences."

"Preferences?"

"We want to make the experience as pleasurable for you as we can."

I glance over the paperwork. It goes over the wardrobe. Favorite positions. Turn-ons and fetishes.

"She has sex with these people? How many?"

"Ah, I'm afraid we can't disclose that information, sir. Client confidentiality, you understand?"

I sign my name on the disclosures and leave the preferences page blank. A young woman dressed in a tight black dress escorts me to a quiet hall lined with numbered rooms. 

"In here, sir," she opens door 4 and leads me in. My hands are shaking, and my heart is pounding in my ears. 

She chuckles as she moves to the minibar and hands me a bottle of water. "You're cute, but you need to breathe."

"Right," I say, grabbing the bottle. 

"First time? Or is this one special to you?"

"Both," I answer and watch the door. 

"She's very lucky," she says, leaning close to me. I wonder if she says that to everyone—another Honeybee Inn customer satisfaction technique. 

"Relax, Cloud," she whispers in my ear, rubbing my shoulders. "She won't bite. Unless you want her to." She says and nibbles my ear, walking towards the door. 

"If you're looking for some more fun later, my name's Dara." She winks and closes the door behind her. 

I stand up and pace, shaking my hands out. The room is quiet, except for my heavy breathing. 

The door opens a few minutes later. Aerith's hair is still up in loose curls, but she's wearing a soft, thin red robe that shows her cleavage and falls right below her butt. She's wearing red high heels. She closes the door behind her and walks towards me. I think I've stopped breathing. 

"How do you want me?" She asks. 

"What do you mean?" My voice chokes out in a whisper. 

"On or off?" She asks, motioning to her robe. 

"Whatever you want," my voice is still a whisper, and I can't take my eyes off of her. 

She pulls the robe off to reveal a thin lacy red push up bra with matching underwear covering her hips and landing just above her butt cheeks. 

"Shit," I hiss. I feel myself getting hard already, and this isn't what I had planned. I wasn't sure what I had planned. But right now, I just wanted to grab her and lower her on the bed. 

"Good?" She teases. 

"Aerith?" I breathe. 

"Do you want me?" 

"Yes," I whisper as she saunters towards me. 

"I heard you paid a lot of money to have me to yourself tonight. Greedy, aren't you?" She stops in front of me and leans down, her breasts in my face and her hands squeezing my thighs. 

"Do you want me to touch myself, or do you just want to fuck me?" She whispers. 

I stammer and try to swallow. She bites her bottom lip, waiting for my response. 

"Neither," I finally say. 

"What? Would you rather just play cribbage or checkers? Maybe talk about our day?" She teases, rubbing my thighs. 

"Aerith," I breathe again. 

Her warm mouth moves to my neck. I feel her tongue run across my collarbone, her teeth bite against my shoulder. 

"Tell me what you like," she whispers and nibbles my jaw. She knows what I like. She knows everything I want. 

"You know what I like," I groan, letting my head fall back. 

"How could I know that?" She says, crawling into my lap. 

"Aerith," I say, holding her arms and pushing her back to look at me. "What are you doing?"

"Whatever you want me to,"

"Stop," I push her off my lap gently. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"

"Because this is my job."

"I don't want this to be your job."

"Jesus Christ, Cloud! Enough! I'm a fucking adult, you don't get to tell me what to do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," I mutter. Dropping my eyes to my shoes. 

"You tell me your weird kinks and fetishes that you can't tell your girlfriend or your wife, and you fuck me however you want, and then you leave. That's what happens here."

"You do this a lot?"

"That's none of your business," she crosses her arms and turns away. 

"Take your hair down," I tell her. 

"What?" She turns back to me. 

"Take your hair down and pull it over your shoulder," I tell her. She does as I say. I pull my shirt off and hand it to her and ask her to put it on. I scan the room to find what I'm looking for. 

"Sit on the ground, cross-legged," I tell her, walking towards her. I lower myself in front of her, facing away from her. I rest my head in her lap, looking up at her. She looks confused, which is exactly what I wanted. I hand her the pen I found. She pulls it from my reach hesitantly. I close my eyes. 

"Draw," I tell her. 

"What?"

"Draw," I repeat. 

"Cloud, come on," she whines. 

"You're supposed to do what I say, right?" My eyes are still closed. 

"Fine, you want me to draw dicks all over you?" I open my eyes, and she's smiling. I missed her smile. 

"If that's what you want," I tell her, and she laughs. 

She sighs and pulls one of my arms to her face, and I feel the pen against my skin. 

"Did you know this entire room is made of mahogany? While the entire front lounge is pine. You can actually smell it if you try."

"Is that right?" She asks. Her hair tickles my shoulder. 

"Pine is cheaper, which is funny that they chose to design the entire building in something cheap and put the expensive stuff in the sex rooms."

"Sex rooms?" She snorts and kisses my forehead. "You're adorable," she whispers, pushing my bangs back. 

"Yeah?" I ask. "You really think that, or is that just part of the Honeybee Inn charm?"

She smacks my arm playfully and sets the pen down. She grabs my face in her hands, and my stomach flips. I feel her thumbs rub against my cheeks. Her lips meet mine urgently, and it's a little awkward kissing this way, but I don't care. I missed her, and the way her tongue dances across my lips and my teeth, I'm sure she misses me too. I tilt my head and open my mouth, and she moans into my mouth. 

I push my hand up into her hair, and she moans loudly, leaning into my hand. Christ, I missed her, and I'm so hard the friction against my jeans is killing me. 

"Cloud?" She whispers against my mouth. 

"Mm?"

"I want you," she moans. I stand up and place my hands under her thighs, lifting her onto the bed as she squeals. I pull my shirt off her. She unbuckles and unzips my pants, quickly pushing them down my legs. She grabs me in her hand and strokes up and down with her soft experienced fingers and my breathing hitches and chokes. I lean over her and bury my face in her neck as she continues stroking me. I grip the sheets hard around me, trying to stifle my moans. I curse and whisper her name. She twists her hand at my tip, and I push my mouth hard against hers. I push my fingers beneath her waistband. She's so warm and wet, and I might just cum from curling my fingers inside her. She moans my name loudly and twists her fingers hard in my hair. 

"Mm, Cloud, please. I need you. I need you," she whispers repeatedly. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me down with her arms. I muffle my groans as she pushes me inside her, and she screams in my ear. She kisses my cheek and my neck. 

"I missed you. I missed you so much." She breathes. 

I pull myself back to rest on my hands above her as she bounces with each thrust. 

"You mean that?" I ask. 

She moans again. "Yes, fuck, I missed you so much."

"I missed you, Aerith." I press my lips against her throat, "I love you."

She gasps. "I love you."

Neither of us lasts long. I lay on Aerith's bare chest afterward. Her hands stroking my hair. I glance at my arm, covered in flowers and hearts. 

"I feel like my performance was probably not worth what you paid."

I snort. "It was."

"Hm? How much am I worth to you exactly, Cloud Strife?" She teases. 

"You're worth everything to me," I whisper, and she suddenly stops stroking my hair. 

She pushes me off and curses under her breath. 

"What's the matter?" I ask as she stands and pulls her underwear back on. I honestly just noticed that she left her heels on, and I'm not sure why that turns me on so much, but it does. She pulls her hair back up and closes the robe over her. 

"I said something wrong," I tell her. 

"No," she tells me and grabs a small bottle of vodka from the minibar and takes a swig. 

"We can't do this, Cloud. This was a mistake."

"Why?"

"We're not together! I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for this. This was stupid and careless of me, and I wasn't thinking, and I got caught up in the moment."

"Why can't we be together, Aerith?"

"Cloud, stop. I'm not doing this with you again. Look around you! I'm working at a fucking glorified brothel, and you paid a stupid amount of money to fuck me. You don't belong here. I do. You don't."

"Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"I want you to leave, Cloud."

"No," I grab her wrist gently. "I paid for you for the entire night."

"Cloud," she pulled her wrist back, "I'm asking you to leave, please." She's crying now, and I just want to hold her. 

"Aerith, please, just tell me what I did. Just tell me what I did wrong, and I won't do it ever again. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want, please."

"Cloud, stop. You didn't do anything wrong. You're perfect. You never belonged in my life. It was a fluke. This is where I belong. You don't belong here."

"Neither do you."

"No. You had no reason to be in rehab. You weren't an addict. You weren't fucked up. We should have never met. I'll ruin your life, and I'll break your heart, and I don't want to hurt you."

"You're already breaking my heart, Aerith, and I'm still here."

She pressed her forehead against mine and cried. I'm not sure what time it was when we left the Honeybee Inn, but I walked her home. We held hands the entire way back to her apartment. She tucked herself under my arm in her bed, and we fell asleep that way. 

** AERITH  **

It's been three years since I've woken up wrapped under his arm. Three years since I've fallen asleep to his soft snoring. Three years since I've nuzzled myself into that crazy mess of blonde hair. Three years since I've kissed his lips. Three long years since I've felt him inside me. 

Three years pass, and I swear I'm getting over him, and in one night in one room together, it's like nothing changed. I told myself I wouldn't miss him. I was careful. I chose an apartment far away. I chose a place to work that I never expected him to show up in. But there he was, and I couldn't help but throw myself at him. At first, it was easy. I told myself that he paid a lot of money, which I was told he did, just to see me naked. Just to have sex with me. But you can only fool yourself for so long around Cloud. Because Cloud isn't like that. Cloud would never pay for sex. Cloud would never use anyone for sex. Cloud would never take advantage of women. Cloud would never take advantage of anyone. When he nestled his head into my lap and handed me a pen, I wanted to cry. I closed my eyes for a moment, and I felt the warm breeze and fresh scent of the outdoors. We were sitting in our place under our tree near the falls—where I drew all over his arms, as he made up silly facts and names about trees and plant life. 

We were naïve then. Children. Tucked safely away in our beds behind the thick walls of the facility. Cloud should have never been there. Sure, he had PTSD, but he wasn't an addict or anything. He didn't hurt himself. He was just alone. Alone and unloved. But weren't we all? He was supposed to leave, and he was supposed to forget about me. I was supposed to leave him alone. I was supposed to be the girl from rehab that was nothing more than a memory. But I became selfish. I dragged him with me because I couldn't leave him. I needed him. And like the kind, caring person he is, he followed me, and he stayed with me. He doesn't understand, but I know he deserves so much more, so much better than me. So much better than the damaged goods. The trash who gets on her knees for drugs. The trash who takes her clothes off and touches herself while paying men watch. I tried. I really tried to leave him alone, but what am I supposed to do when he shows up and gives me that look and tells me he misses me? How am I supposed to say no when I feel the same way? 

I didn't give Cloud my new number the next morning. I told him not to come back. I told him it was better this way. He told me I was wrong, but that he respected me and he would leave me alone if that's what I wanted. I told him it was what I wanted with my eyes closed. I closed the door and fell against it biting back tears. 

Elmyra tells me we're friends and that we can always talk, but that I need to find another therapist. So I do. Her name is Kate, and she's thirty-one. Divorced after she got tired of her husband beating her in front of their three kids. She's quiet. She can be blunt, and I like that. Honestly, sometimes she reminds me of Cloud. 

"I ran into my ex the other day," I tell her. 

"Is that good or bad?" She asks. 

"I'm not sure yet."

She lifts an eyebrow, which I've learned means she wants me to say more. 

"I met him in rehab, only he didn't belong there. I never really meant to fall in love with him, but I couldn't help myself."

"Why is he your ex?"

"I didn't want to be selfish anymore, so I left. He's so smart and so annoyingly handsome and talented and kind and gentle, and he makes me laugh."

"Why would it have been selfish to stay?" 

"Because he can do better than me."

"Says who?"

"Says me. Says anyone who probably saw us together."

"And did he agree with you? Did he think he could do better than you?"

"No. He told me he couldn't and that he didn't want to."

"What happened when you ran into each other again?"

"We had sex, and I cried and told him we can't do it anymore, and then I brought him back to my apartment, and we had sex again and fell asleep together."

"Sounds like that might be a little confusing for him. How were things while you were having sex?" She asks, crossing her leg. 

"Amazing, as always. He's so attentive. Like he knows exactly what I like and exactly what I need at that moment."

"Aerith, let me ask you, what is the worst that might happen if you enter a relationship with him again?"

"He won't be happy. He'll resent me. He'll leave me."

She nods, flicking her ankle. 

"That would really hurt if he left you, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I honestly don't think I would be able to handle it."

"Of course. So you leave him before he even has a chance to leave you. Does he make you happy?" She asks me. 

I nod. 

"Does he hurt you? Make you feel bad? Abandon you? Touch you when you don't want him to?"

"No," I whimper. "I love him. He's the best person I've ever known."

"Why are you punishing yourself, Aerith? You are not a bad person. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be loved and cared for. Do you know that? Do you understand that?" 

I shake my head. I'm crying too hard now, and it's ugly, and my voice keeps coming out in whimpers, and I want to leave. 

Kate hands me a box of Kleenex and tells me not to hold back. 

"Do you want to hear what I think, Aerith?"

I nod and blot the Kleenex under my eyes. 

"I think you've found someone amazing, and I think you would be an idiot not to be with him. And you're not an idiot, Aerith."

Kate tells me, as silly as it sounds, she wants me to look at myself in the mirror each morning and tell myself that I'm not a bad person and that I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be loved and cared for. 

It took almost two months. It was like a light turning on one morning. I stared at the reflection, hardly recognizing it. I squinted hard at the girl in the mirror. It felt like when Denise and Margot did my hair and makeup. I swear I heard them yelling "ta-dah," as I continued watching this sad girl in the mirror staring back at me. What was wrong with her? What did she do that was so wrong that she deserved to suffer? I cried, watching the girl in the mirror cry with me. Kate was right. This girl didn't deserve any of this. She deserved to be happy. I didn't want to see her sad anymore.

I turned in my uniform at the Honeybee Inn and told them I quit. I packed up my things in my tiny, crappy apartment and hopped on the bus. I honestly had no idea where I was going. I had hoped that one of them still lived in the same place. I bit my lower lip hard and squeezed my eyes tight, trying to contain my excitement. Glancing out the window, I watch the city fade behind me into the night.

I can't wait to see him.

I can't wait to get home. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The constant love and support I've received from you all makes me just want to keep posting. :)
> 
> This is a short, dialogue heavy chapter. Sometimes, I think that seems a little lazy, but whatever, I'm a lazy person!

**CLOUD**

The first few times, Tara asked me to smoke with her, I said no. A week after I saw Aerith, I told her yes and got violently high. I've never done drugs, but I loved the feeling. It was immediate. One hit, and I felt so relaxed. Tara talks about 'riding the high,' so she likes to smoke cigarettes and take long walks after she smokes a bowl. I don't know about all that, but I like zoning out and laughing at the dumbest things. I tell her all about Aerith, without meaning to. She says she's sorry and that it sounds like Aerith is really important to me. 

I didn't want to talk about Aerith anymore. It made me sad, and I didn't like the way Tara was looking at me. Her dark lips pouted and frowning. Her thick eyebrows pinched together. Her head tilted, staring down at me like I was some puppy in a shelter—some unwanted, unloved, orphan teenager in a group home. So I pressed her hard against the brick wall behind a grocery store in a dirty alley. She let her underwear fall to her ankles beneath her skirt and unzipped my pants. I hid my face beneath her dreadlocks. My hands gripping hard against the brick until they bled. She held onto my shoulders tightly and moaned in my ear until I came inside her. She told me she loved me. I told her, 'thank you.' It's been six weeks, and I've been ignoring her texts and phone calls. I didn't want her to tell me she loved me. Maybe she was just stoned, and she didn't really mean it. 

I think about Tifa and how much I wanted her to like me when we were kids. Zack's mother always called me a wallflower because I never minded hiding in corners and listening. It was easier than talking. She never seemed to understand that when you spend time with a person like Zack, the tall, muscular, confident guy with the perfect hair and chiseled jawline, you get used to being in the background. You get used to seeing the lovestruck look on girls' faces that are never aimed at you. 

On my first day in rehab, Clara told me I was cute, and I hated it. Clara was the first girl to ever comment on my appearance in a positive light. She and Aerith loved knowing this. Aerith was the second girl to tell me I was cute. Ironically, she called me beautiful. It's ironic because she hated it when people said it to her. She said she felt powerful saying it to me and actually understanding what that word meant. I always liked the compliments from Aerith, though. Since then, a few other women have commented on my appearance, and I'm not sure why. I definitely don't ooze the confidence that Zack always did. If I'm being honest, I have no idea how to flirt. I wonder if I've ever even flirted with Aerith. 

I know I've never flirted with Tara. When I stayed with Ryder, we always stopped at the coffee shop where she worked, we called it Bob Marley. I still have no idea what it's actually called. I remember seeing Tara behind the counter. She fit in perfectly with her long thick teal dreadlocks and glittery eyeshadow and dark lipstick. She wore crazy colored blouses and tights with thick combat boots. She would smile at me or wink, and I assumed she was just friendly. Ryder would tell me she was definitely into me, but she seemed much too cool to be into me. 

"Cloud, you and I come in here together all the time. That girl has no idea who I am. But when you walk up to the counter, she bats her eyelashes and says, 'the usual?'" He looks over his shoulder, batting his eyelashes dramatically, imitating Tara's high pitched southern accent. 

I snort loudly. "Shut up. She does not." Every time we went in there after that, I noticed she did seem to know who I was and had no idea who Ryder was. I would shrug as he gave me a look, his eyebrow lifted. 

Ryder's really short. He's much more outgoing than I am and he dresses in t-shirts and basketball shorts a lot. He usually has a baseball cap on backward. If you looked at us, I'm sure you would never think we were friends. I know people used to tell Zack and me that all the time. Especially Tifa. She would ask what we talked about because I was quiet and boring, and Zack was funny and friendly. Her words, not mine. She was probably right, though. Aerith said she liked me because I was quiet. She never said I was boring, though. Maybe I am. But Ryder seems to want to spend time with me, and so does Tara for that matter. Ryder started seeing a girl he works with, so I don't see him much anymore, which is fine. I figure I owe him for putting up with Aerith and me. Ryder's a really good friend, and he's a really good person. He deserves to be happy. 

My phone vibrates while I'm setting up my new computer in my apartment. Trying to reach for it, I trip over the cord and nearly watch my brand new monitor topple onto the hardwood. I try to break my fall with my wrist, as a sharp pain shoots through my entire arm up to my neck. A few days later it started swelling, so I went to the clinic. I fractured my right wrist, which really kind of fucking sucks because I'm right-handed. There are worse things, I suppose. At least I'm not in a cast, just a brace, and an ace bandage. 

I'm out at a popular bar with Denise and Margot and their friends, and they all laugh and say that only I would fracture my wrist tripping over something. We're sitting in an oversized booth by the doors. It was Tara who was texting me while I was setting up my computer, and I never responded. I'm not sure how long it's been since I've been avoiding her now, maybe a couple of months. So I definitely didn't expect to see her teal dreadlocks out of the corner of my eye, walking through the doors of the bar. I sink lower into the booth, and Denise and Margot ask me what I'm doing. They give me shit about how I'm a typical guy who only wants sex, and once a girl shows interest, I ignore her. 

Maybe they're right, I don't know. I've only had sex with two girls, but both times for the first time, they wanted it more than I did. I don't disagree because maybe I'm supposed to want it more than I do. Don't get me wrong, I loved having sex with Aerith, and it was pretty 50/50 by the end who was initiating things. I don't want to tell them that I like having sex with Tara because she tells me how good I am at it, and for a while, I don't have to think about anything. It's a nice escape for a while until it's not anymore. 

I drop my face in my hands and let the back of my hands hit the table. The rest of the group starts a game of darts on the other side of the bar. Margot offers to stay with me because I can't play due to my wrist, and she thinks darts are boring anyway.

"Oh, Clo-Clo," Margot rubs my back. I'm not sure when it started. I think we were drunk, and I kept calling her "Go-Go," and everyone laughed. She never calls me Cloud anymore, and quite honestly, she's the only one I would ever let call me "Clo-Clo."

"You miss her a lot, huh?" She whispers and rests her chin on my shoulder. 

"You know, my love. If I were into cock, I would have been fighting Aerith for you." She kisses my hair and rests her cheek on it. My laughs are muffled, but I appreciate her trying. 

"Cloud?" I tip my face to see Tara standing above me; not surprisingly, she looks confused. Not only have I been ignoring her calls, but she's now found me alone in a booth with a girl rubbing my back and kissing my hair. 

"What's going on?" She asks. 

"You must be Tara!" Margot answers. 

Tara nods. Margot pulls at my shoulders, getting me to move over and tells Tara to sit.

"I'm Margot," she says, as Tara scoots into the booth next to me. "Cloud talks about you all the time." Of course, she's lying. I never mentioned Tara until about an hour ago when she walked into the bar. 

"He does?" She hardly seems convinced. "I'm sorry, how do you two know each other?"

"Old friends, right, Clo?" She asks, nudging my shoulder with hers. 

I nod. 

I hate this, and I feel trapped, and I want to leave. 

"You're not together?" She asks, suspicious of Margot's hands on me. 

"No! Tragically, I'm into women, and Cloud doesn't quite fit the description." 

Tara laughs uncomfortably. The rest of the group returns to the table, ordering a round of shots and beers. My phone vibrates. Ryder texts me, "incoming." My eyes move to the doors, and I see Ryder, followed by his girlfriend, and of course, followed by a tall thin girl with crazy thick curls.

Sure, why not? 

Why wouldn't Aerith show up right now?

Fucking hell. Margot gasps loudly in my ear and shakes my shoulders.

"Aerith!" She squeaks. Everyone's heads turn, and they wave wildly as she waves politely back. Margot and Denise stand first to hug her, Ryder, and his girlfriend, Mara. Margot holds her left hand out, and Aerith covers her mouth with her hand and gasps at the ring on her finger. Both girls squeal, and the three of them hug again. I feel like I should say something, but I'm not sure what to say. After she greets everyone, she walks over to me. She looks beautiful. Her hair hangs in loose curls, her bright green eyes outlined in winged eyeliner, and her lips are colored dark red. She's wearing a light pink summer dress with thin straps that show off her sharp collarbones and shoulder blades. 

"Heya," she whispers, standing in front of me. I swallow hard. I feel Tara's eyes boring into me, as Aerith and I stand in front of each other in silence. 

"You look really nice," I tell her. I'm starting to sweat. She chuckles and tells me I look really nice too. She stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, and I return the hug and clear my throat. She presses her fingers against my wrist and asks what happened. Sitting back down next to Tara, I scoot over so Aerith can sit next to me. I feel everyone's eyes in the round booth on me, and I want to slide down under the table and run. How am I even in this situation? 

"Who's your friend, Cloud?" Mara asks, and I glare at Ryder when he laughs. 

"This is Tara," I mutter. 

"Hi, Tara! I'm Aerith!" Aerith says, pushing my chest back against the seat and holding her hand out to Tara's. 

"Aerith? You're the famous Aerith?" She asks. "I've heard a lot about you."

Aerith shoots me a look. Her eyebrow raised. "You have?" My cheeks flush, and I glance at the exit, determining the amount of time it would take me to crawl over her and reach the door. 

"Yes, Cloud told me all about you, and then he fucked me against a wall in an alley." Everyone stops talking and stares at me. Aerith starts giggling. 

"I like her!" She hits my shoulder. 

"Excuse me," I say and squeeze past Aerith making a beeline for the entrance. A few moments pass, as I rest my head against the wall, letting my eyes close. I can't leave. I want to, but I can't. That would be pathetic. As I'm contemplating any excuse to get out of this, I hear my name. 

It's Aerith. She presses her back against the wall next to me, our shoulders brushing. 

"I honestly didn't know you would be here," she says, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Ryder and Mara told me they thought you couldn't make it. 

"They lied. They knew I was here."

"I'm sorry. I really didn't know. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come, and I really didn't mean to ruin your date or anything."

I shake my head quickly. "It's not a date."

"She's sassy. I like her. She's good for you." 

"She's not you," I tell her. 

"That makes me like her more, I think." She laughs and winks. 

"What are you doing here, Aerith?" 

"Ryder told me Denise and Margot were here, and I wanted to see them."

"But not me?" I whisper. 

"No! Of course, I wanted to see you," she presses her hand to my forearm. "I'm sorry. I've been back for a while. I've been staying with Ryder," she admits, dropping her head and letting her arms fall to her side. 

"What? Why? For how long?" My voice is urgent. 

"A couple weeks." She shrugs. 

"A couple weeks?" I yell. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I was scared. I was embarrassed," she says, chewing on her bottom lip. 

"About what?"

"About how I acted the last time we saw each other."

I scuffed the toe of my shoe against the concrete and nodded. 

"Tara seems really nice though, Cloud, I like her."

"You said that already."

"Well, I mean it. If you're happy, I'm happy."

"I didn't say I was happy. We're not dating anyway. I mean, we've never gone out on a date or anything. We hang out and smoke weed, and she talks about the environment, and we have sex, and I go home."

"Wow, there's a lot to dissect from that." She chuckles and exhales. 

"It's all the environment talk, isn't it?" I joke. 

She laughs loudly. "I missed you, Cloud. But, I think I'm gonna go," she hikes a thumb over her shoulder, "I really didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable."

I don't want her to leave. I could be angry or frustrated with Aerith about anything, but her presence makes me happy. She makes me feel good when she's around, and I'm not ready for that feeling to go away. Not yet, anyway. 

I reach for her hand. She turns and looks at me curiously when I grab it. "I don't want you to go, Aerith."

She smiles sadly, and I'm worried I've said something wrong again. 

"Please don't leave again."  


**AERITH**

I tell Cloud I'll stay; if he promises, it won't make him uncomfortable. He says it won't. We're sitting across from each other in the giant wraparound booth. Tara's fingers grip his bicep at certain points when she's talking or laughing. I really do like her. She's funny, and I want to be happy for her and Cloud. Whatever they are. But I feel a tinge of jealously every time her fingers graze his skin. I've messed up. I told him 'no' too many times. I waited too long. This was exactly what I wanted, though, right? 

His eyes meet mine often. They're sad, and I want to climb over this stupid table and hold him. I want to cradle his head against my chest, rocking back and forth and planting kisses in his soft hair. As if she's heard me, Tara's fingers are in his hair, and I'm biting back tears. Denise and Mara are animated. They ask me questions about the Honeybee Inn, but I'm not paying attention. Tara touches him a lot. Cloud doesn't like to be touched, and he flinches slightly each time. She doesn't seem to notice. Maybe she really could be good for him. 

Tara's friends, who she showed up with, call her. They're leaving, and I feel bad how thankful I am she's going with them. She kisses Cloud hard on the mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair. My eyes narrow, and I feel hot tears forming behind my eyes, watching them. I stand to hug her because she's kind, and she makes everyone at the table laugh. I feel a bit like an outsider in my own group of friends, and I wonder if I've let too much time pass. I just want to go home. But I'm not even sure where that is. I settle for Ryder's and leave shortly after Tara does. I hear loud footsteps approach quickly behind me. 

"Aerith?" Cloud breathes. "Can I come with you?" He asks. His cheeks turning my favorite shade of pink under the streetlights. I nod and bite my lower lip hard to suppress my stupid grin.

"You can stay with me, you know?" He tells me while we're walking side by side. "I've slept on that futon. It sucks."

I laugh and nod. "I don't know, Cloud."

"It doesn't have to mean anything or whatever. I can sleep on the couch or the floor or something, and you can have the bed. I don't mind."  
I tell him okay, as we head back to Ryder's to grab my things. Cloud lives really close to Ryder. Like a three minute walk. His new place is charming. It smells rich and fancy. There are free cookies and coffee in the front lobby. Glass chandeliers hang from the ceiling as quiet classical music fills the space. 

"Wow," I exclaim when we walk into his apartment—vaulted ceilings with exposed pipes and brick walls for aesthetic. I drop my bag, and he sets my boxes on the counter in his kitchen. 

"You like it?" He asks, walking towards me, his hands sunk into his front pockets. 

"Yeah, it's lovely, Cloud."

"So are you," he whispers and closes the remaining distance between us, resting one hand on my hip and the other bunching my dress in the back. I lean into him and kiss him back hard. I missed him, and I missed his hands and his mouth on me as heat builds wildly between my legs. He pulls down the strap of my dress below my breast and nibbles and licks his way over the small surface. I'm breathing so loudly, his hair is blowing back and forth under my nose. He lifts me swiftly, his mouth still on my breast, and drops me on the bed. He pulls up my dress to expose my stomach and underwear and kisses his way from my sternum to my underwear, and I arch my back. I grab his face in my hands and laugh at the urgency in his face. 

"Is this what you meant by not having to mean anything or whatever?" 

"I lied," he admits. "I wanted this," he says, resting his palm in the space between my pelvis and underwear. I feel his fingers teasing me, and I close my eyes tightly, choking out moans. 

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers. 

I shake my head quickly. "Never."

I never want to lose this feeling again. 

Afterward, after we've taken time to catch our breath, I slip his shirt on, and it smells like him, and I ball up the neck and inhale it slowly under my nose as he finds his boxers and pulls them on. He curls up behind me under the covers. His hand holds mine against my stomach. 

"Aerith?" His voice is soft and quiet. 

I hum happily and rest my head against him. 

"Are you gonna leave again?"

I turn to face him, confused. 

"I just don't wanna say or do something wrong, and then you leave again."

"Cloud, I never left because of anything you said or did."

"I just don't want to be happy with you like this, and then in a few days or weeks or months, you leave again. I really think it'd kill me this time."

I turn to face him and hold his face in my hands. "I never thought I was good enough for you. I never thought anything I ever said or did was deserving enough for you."

"Why?" He exhales. 

"I don't know. Because you're perfect."

He shakes his head, still cradled between my fingers. "I'm not. You know that."

"You're too good for me, and you always have been."

"You're wrong. I like how I feel when I'm with you, Aerith. I like how you make me feel, and I wish I could make you feel that way too, and sometimes I wonder if I ever would be able to."

I sit up and grab his fingers, holding them in my lap. "Can I tell you something?" I focus on his fingers and rubbing them between mine. 

"Anything," he whispers. 

"I meant it. I never thought I deserved you, Cloud. I kept telling myself that I would let myself enjoy you while I could have you, and then I would let you go, and you could have a great life without me. That you deserved that. When I left, I started seeing another therapist. She told me that was the story I was telling myself—that I was a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved by you. She said I was wrong. It sounds so stupid, but she told me I had to look at myself in the mirror every morning and tell my reflection that I was worth it. That I deserved to be loved and cared for." 

Tears start burning down my cheeks, and Cloud's eyes are kind and patient.

"I don't know," I continue explaining, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, "One morning, I think I really started to believe it, and all I wanted was to be with you. I still want the big house with the yard full of kids with you, Cloud. I love you, and I'm sorry for how much I've hurt you. I thought I was helping you, and I'm sorry for how long it took me to realize how horrible I was to you. I don't ever want to leave you again, and I tell myself that I won't because I don't ever want to be without you. But I might need your help. If it ever seems like I'm forgetting, will you remind me?"

He smiles and rubs my leg. 

"Every single day," he whispers. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't even know what my life is anymore, but here we are.

**CLOUD**

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Tara's rummaging through her fridge for a couple of beers after I told her I don't need one, she's still searching. I think this has become personal between her and the beer and has nothing to do with me. Seated at a barstool behind her, I glance out her window, the branches on the trees out front are blowing in the wind rapidly, the sky a grey overcast. I inhale deeply, puff up my cheeks, and exhale slowly before I speak.

"You remember the other night at the bar?"

She closes the refrigerator, settling for two bottles of sparkling water. 

"Yeah," she says, setting one of the bottles in front of me and twisting the cap off hers. 

I keep my hands in my lap and tap my thumbs together. This shouldn't be that difficult. We never said we were monogamous. I'm not even sure what we are. Kind of friends with benefits? More than acquaintances who smoke together? 

I focus my attention on my thumbs. "Aerith came home with me that night."

She stops drinking, both her eyebrows are raised when she looks at me. Her mouth forms a straight line. 

"You had sex with her?"

"Yeah," I whisper. 

She sighs loudly. The sound of her bottle hitting the counter makes me jump. 

"Cloud, I'm not an idiot. I saw the way you two were looking at each other all night. When I kissed you, I wanted you to leave with me, and you didn't. So I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry."

"Honestly, I'm okay."

"She really liked you," I offer, wondering if that was the wrong thing to say. 

She chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, I really liked her, too, actually. And I usually can't stand that upbeat, bubbly personality."

She shrugs. "You two are kind of cute. She's the loud, outgoing one who gets along with everyone, and you're the quiet, insightful one who keeps his head down while she makes you do things that make you uncomfortable. You balance each other out."

I scratch the back of my head, "Thanks."

"If things change and you ever get lonely, you know where to find me, Cloud."

I left my unopened bottle of sparkling water on the counter, and she kissed my cheek and closed the door behind me. 

Aerith's been back for five days, and it's like she never left. She spends a lot of time with the girls, planning Denise and Margot's wedding in the fall. I don't mind it much. Honestly, Ryder and I are just relieved that all of them get along. Ryder talks to me a lot about proposing to Mara. I ask him what's the rush, and he tells me we're not getting any younger. I haven't been twenty-two very long, but I don't feel like I'm getting older. Sometimes I feel younger now than when I sixteen. Maybe because things are going well and I'm surrounded by people who love me. I didn't have that then. I think you must feel older when you're alone. Another new addition to the group of girls is, shockingly, Tara. Her and Aerith did hit it off. They were honestly pretty inseparable. I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that both have seen me naked and spend a lot of time together. 

A few months pass, and they're still spending a lot of time together. Leaves crunch under our feet as the crisp air nips at us beneath our sweaters and jackets. Aerith grips onto my arm tightly, skipping along beside me. Tara's on her other side, breathing on her hands to keep warm. We huddle quickly inside the entryway of the restaurant, shuddering at the sudden change in temperature. 

"Wow! This is really fancy," Aerith exclaims at the massive wood-paneled and velvet walls, dimly lit by gigantic gaudy chandeliers and wall sconces. A woman in a pantsuit with a neat ponytail greets us, and I suddenly feel extraordinarily underdressed and out of place. We spot Margot waving at us, seated at a large table in the center of the room, a white tablecloth draped over it. Aerith is entirely unfazed by the stares we're getting. I glance at Tara, and she shrugs. We're the last to arrive, which is fine with me. Tara and I find three empty seats next to each other. At the same time, Aerith makes her way around the table, introducing herself and greeting all sixteen people. 

"This is so much fun!" She whispers, straightening her dress and giving my shoulder a squeeze, before sitting down. I'm glad she's enjoying herself because I honestly have no idea why we're here. Margot just said she wanted to get a big group together and dress up and go to a fancy restaurant. I try to refrain from checking the clock on my phone as much as possible. Margot stands up to make a toast, clinking her fork against her wine glass. The rest of the table cheerfully raises their glasses as Margot opens her mouth to speak, glass shatters next to me, a shard landing on my plate. I turn to face Aerith, and her hands are covering her mouth, and she's shaking her head wildly. 

"Aerith?" I try to keep my voice calm, resting my fingers on her bare shoulder. 

"No," she breathes shakily, her knees hitting the table loudly as she stands to leave. Excusing myself from the table of stares, I follow after her. Another voice I don't recognize calls her name. He steps in front of me, he looks a lot older than us. Pushing through the double doors outside, I find Aerith, slumped against the wall, her hands over her ears. The man is pleading with her, hands around her forearms, and I don't like it. He's a lot bigger than me, and I don't really want to fight in front of an expensive restaurant with a valet out front, but fuck it. 

"Hey!" I yell, and they both turn towards me. He throws his arms up like he's surrendering. 

"I just wanted to talk to her. I swear, I didn't want to upset her," he says, backing up. My eyes are narrowed, and my fists are clenched as he moves quickly past me back inside. She fists my sweater tightly and presses her face hard into my chest. A small group walks past us, whispering to one another, as I sit in front of Aerith on the ground, holding her while she cries and shakes against me. She doesn't say anything, and I don't bother asking her. Neither of us sleeps very well that night. 

The night of the girls' bachelorette party, Aerith sits cross-legged in front of her full-length mirror, applying makeup and humming.

"It was my foster brother," she calls out to me, as I'm getting out of the shower. 

"What?" I ask her, drying my hair with a towel. 

Aerith turns to face me through the bathroom door, as I'm wrapping the towel around my waist. 

"The man," she says, "at the restaurant. He was my foster brother." 

I must have asked Aerith a thousand times if she was sure she wanted to go. She squeezed my shoulders hard and told me to stop worrying and that she's okay, but I don't believe her. Chewing on my thumbnail, I realize how frequently I've been tapping my phone's screen for any notifications. Maybe she was right, and she really is okay. Aerith is tough. She's been through the worst of it and still comes out smiling. I tell myself this as I try to fall asleep. 

My phone vibrating wakes me suddenly. I squint to read who's calling—it's Aerith. She gasps when I pick up the phone. She's drunk, which isn't surprising, but my anxiety instantly kicks back in. I try to remind myself who she's with—a bunch of recovering addicts, so chances of her getting into anything more than alcohol is slim. She's yelling in my ear. I hear loud chatter and giggling in the background. She tells me she's going to walk outside, and I hear her heels clicking sloppily on the ground while she snorts loudly. 

"I miss you! I wish you were here," she slurs. She lowers her voice and ' _pssts'_ into the earpiece. "Plus, I'm really horny," she laughs crazily at this. 

"Oh, boy. You okay? You know where the other girls are?" I ask her growing even more concerned that she's clearly trashed and shouldn't be alone. 

"They're inside! I miss you! We should have sex," she slurs. 

I laugh at her repetition. Aerith is forward, but not usually this forward. 

"When you come home, we can," I tell her. 

"No, I want to now," she whines. I can hear her heel tap hard on the pavement. 

"Aerith, I'm not there."

"Shit," she mutters. As if she had an epiphany, she gasps. "We could have phone sex!"

"You're very drunk."

"So? It's not like you're actually touching me or anything. I won't tell anyone you took advantage of your innocent girlfriend during our raunchy phone sex talk."

"Raunchy, huh?"

"The raunchiest."

"Are you having fun?" I try to change the subject. 

"I want you. What are you doing?" She ignores me. 

"Well, I was sleeping. It's 4:45."

"That sounds like judgment, mister!"

"It is. I know you can handle it."

"I love you," she whispers. 

"I love you, too. And I will see you very soon. Will you please go back inside with everyone else?"

"Such a worrier!" She giggles and clicks her tongue. 

"I'm very protective of the things I care most about."

**AERITH**

I remember when I was little, my mother told me she had me when she was eighteen. I remember thinking how old that sounded. Eighteen, a full-grown legal adult. When I turned eighteen and was told I had to leave the facility, I remember thinking about how I wasn't ready. I'm only eighteen. What am I supposed to do? How can an eighteen-year-old know what to do? How can we be expected to make decisions that last a lifetime? I'm twenty-three, and I still feel that way. I couldn't imagine having children at eighteen. I couldn't imagine having children now. My mother died when she was twenty-nine. Eleven of those years stuck underground. I appreciate her more with each day that passes. Everything she went through. I wonder, as she lay dying on a dirty backstreet in front of her daughter, if she had any regrets. 

As I watch a twenty-two-year-old Cloud cross the stage uncomfortably to get his degree and shake the faculty's hands, I can't help but think how much older he seems. Would I feel older if I had gone to college? I wonder if he feels older. As I'm clapping and yelling wildly for him after we hear his name announced, Mara turns to me and hugs my side, "congratulations!" She tells me. But I'm not sure why. I haven't done anything. I haven't done a single significant thing in my life. I wonder if I've taken it for granted. I don't want to have regrets. But Cloud grins widely at me, showing me his teeth, and I remember my life feels full because he's in it. 

The gang goes out to celebrate, and Cloud has his arm hung loosely over my shoulder the whole night, and I can't help but beam up at him every chance I get. Through all the bullshit he's been through and all the bullshit I put him through, he's still here. He still accomplished something and graduated top of his class. 

"What's next?" Tara asks. 

Cloud shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. "I'm not sure. Move to the country?" He finishes and glances down at me. I place my hand on his chest and nuzzle myself into his neck. 

I'm a messy person. I don't deny it, and I know it bothers Cloud. I know this because he huffs softly and cleans up after me. Sometimes I leave things out on purpose just to see how quickly he'll put it back where it belongs and I giggle and kiss his face. Cloud's a worrier. I understand why he worries about me. I would worry about me too. But I'm getting better, really. I relapsed. I don't really remember it. We were out at a club for Margot and Denise's bachelorette party, and they said I disappeared for a long time. I remember meeting some girls and some guys, I think. Somehow the topic of coke came up, and when one of the girls said she had some, we stumbled in the bathroom, and three of us went into the handicapped stall and did a couple lines. The whole night is a little blurry, to be honest. Cloud asked if I remembered calling him, I didn't. Or I kind of did. I figured it was a dream. 

"Just for the record," he said, his back to me doing the dishes at the sink, while I nursed my hangover with a Sprite Cloud had bought me, lying on the couch. "I would not be opposed to phone sex."

"Oh?" I asked, sitting up a little, wiggling my eyebrows. He chuckled. "Should I step into the bedroom and give you a call?"

He turned and laughed at this. I don't hear this laugh often enough, and I bask in the sound. Leaning against the kitchen sink, his voice grave, he asks me, "You okay?"

I nod because I think I am okay. I forgot how much I liked doing coke, and from what I remember, I felt lighter than air for awhile. The drip tasted horrible, and I wanted to throw up. But I danced and kissed everyone and told everyone I loved them. Then the high was over, and I wanted to go home. I felt like a failure. I wondered what Cloud would think. I wondered what Elmyra would think. I wondered what Clara would think. Sometimes I wonder if I pushed her towards her death sooner by keeping her hidden breakfasts under her bed a secret. I tell Cloud this one night. He tells me I shouldn't think that way and that a few missed meals weren't what sent Clara over. If anything, it kept her here longer. Because she knew I cared. She needed a friend, and I was there. I don't really feel like much of a friend, though. I still miss her a lot. There are so many things that have happened that I want to tell her about. I want to run to our room, while she's lying on her bed, her headphones in, and I jump on her, and we squeal together. I still hope she knows how much she meant to me. 

The truth is, Clara didn't want to get better. She couldn't have wanted to. Otherwise, she wouldn't have wanted to keep sticking her fingers down her throat. I thought I wanted coke so badly that I would have done anything for it. I used to do anything for it. I craved it until I tried it again, and the drip in the back of my throat made me gag. I had the worst hangover of my life the next day, and I remember kissing girls and boys, and when I tell Cloud this, he doesn't get angry. He just asks if I'm okay. But I hated the look on his face, and I hated the drip, and I hated having no control. I don't want to do it again. So that's why I know Clara didn't want to get better. She couldn't have. I would rather be a success story than a sob story. 

"I'm here for you. You know that, right?" He's still standing at the sink, his arms crossed, facing me. He looks so much older than the quiet, shy sixteen-year-old I met a lifetime ago. He said he went to the gym to clear his mind while I was away, which definitely showed. I had never cared much about my weight or appearance, but standing next to Cloud could make even the most confident girl a little self-conscious. I wondered what people thought when they saw us together. A bright-haired, bright-eyed muscular man with the body literally sculpted by Michelangelo himself, standing next to a scrawny mousy haired big-eared recovering addict. I unconsciously cross my arms over my chest and sink further down the couch. As if reading my thoughts, he's across the room immediately, kneeling in front of me.

"What's going on?" He asks. Cloud tells me how he was made fun of all the time when he was younger for being quiet. He told me he just always preferred to listen rather than speak. I think all those years of listening and hugging the walls made him keenly observant. 

"I don't know," I say. My eyes focused on his hands, rubbing my thighs. 

He's quiet, and I know he's waiting for me to explain, but I feel stupid. Cloud chased me through a fucking brothel. He's seen me at my lowest points—ugly crying in his arms until I fall asleep and kicking him off me for calling me beautiful. I glance up into his concerned ocean eyes. His mouth a straight line. I want to kiss him, and I wonder why that's always the first thing I want to do when I see him. I wonder if that's a good or bad thing or just a thing, and it doesn't mean anything. 

I inhale deeply and exhale loudly through my nose. "This just sounds pathetic and stupid, but do you think I'm pretty?"

"What?" He exhales. 

I feel my cheeks burning, and I wish I wouldn't have said anything. 

I motion to him with both arms and raise my voice a little. "I mean, look at you, and look at me."

"I am."

"Women stare at you, you know? You should be with someone with gorgeous hair and perfect makeup and fancy perfume and clothes. She drives your gorgeous children around in her perfect SUV and drinks frappes, while getting her nails done, and she has perfect big boobs and smooth, flawless skin."

"Anything else?" He smirks. 

"Yes! She spends her time sunbathing outside by your enormous pool. She always has dinner ready and greets you at the door naked every day when you get home from work, and you have perfect, sexy, mind-blowing sex all the time."

I push out my lower lip and stare up at him. He's smiling and suppressing his laughter. I feel his gentle fingers against my bony wrists, as his thumbs caress me. His face is close to mine. I can feel his warm breath on my skin as I start counting the ridiculously adorable freckles on his cheeks. 

"I thought you knew me at least a _little_ better than that."

I raise an eyebrow and pull my lips back together. 

His palm is pressed against my cheek, and I lean into it. 

"None of that would mean a goddamn thing if you weren't there with me."

"Stop," I whine. 

"I mean it," he chuckles softly, pressing his forehead against mine. "You are everything to me, Aerith. The most perfect girl I could ever imagine wouldn't even come close to you. You remember when we first met?"

I nod against him. 

"I couldn't take my eyes off you. I wanted you to come over. I wanted to see you closer and hear your voice, but I was terrified of you."

"Why?" I laugh. 

"Because I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my entire life."

"I hate you," I tease, dropping my face against his chest, his arms quickly snaking around me. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I feel like a terrible boyfriend that you didn't immediately know that. I don't want you to ever doubt how I feel about you, Aerith. I suck with words and emotions, and I'm terrible at apologies, and I know that's not a very good excuse. If I knew how to put into words how much you mean to me, I would tell you all the time. But I love you, and I always wonder what people think when they see us together too. I think they must be wondering what someone like you could possibly see in someone like me."

He kisses my hair, and I try to choke back the tears that are welling in my eyes. 

"You know I think you're perfect," I tell him. 

He laughs. "I know how you feel about me, but that doesn't change the way I think others feel about us."

"Why do we care so much what people think?"

I feel him shrug his shoulders. "Dunno. We shouldn't, though."

Lifting my head, I press my lips against his loudly. 

"Wanna have that phone sex now, ya know, without the phone?" He asks.

My mouth drops open, and I think he must be joking. He's just trying to make me laugh, but my body didn't seem to get the message because I feel my stomach flip and heat pooling between my legs already. 

"I love it when you talk dirty," I whisper in the huskiest sexiest voice I can muster. He stands quickly and pulls his shirt off, kneeling down over me, the back of my head pressed hard against the pillows. I feel his lips brush mine. 

"Yeah?" He's breathless. His hand falls between my legs over my pajama shorts and underwear. I feel the warmth of his hand rubbing me, and I need more. I wriggle underneath him, biting my bottom lip and releasing a quiet moan. 

"Do you have any idea what you do to me when you make that face?"

"Mm-mm," I moan, feeling his middle finger hard against me. I part my knees for him instinctively. 

His lips and tongue are working against my neck, and I'm arching my back and squirming wildly beneath him. His hand rakes up my shirt until I feel his thumb pass over my nipple, and I moan loudly. 

"You feel so fucking good, it's almost impossible to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," I whisper between moans. I'm so wet and desperate now, and he knows it, and he's teasing me. 

"I love knowing how wet you get for me," he whispers in my ear. 

I moan loudly. "Cloud," I beg him, reaching for his zipper, but his hands are faster and stronger than mine, and he's gripping my wrist, holding it above me on the arm of the couch. 

"Cloud, please."

"What do you need? Tell me."

"I need you."

"You have me."

He's teasing me with his fingers, barely brushing against me, and I lift my hips, begging for more friction. I reach my other hand to his zipper, and he pushes the other hand above my head and holds both my wrists with one hand, while his other reaches beneath my underwear. 

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers moving slowly inside me. He pulls his fingers out, and I groan at the sudden loss. "Cloud!"

"Just a minute," he smirks. He pushes my top up over my breasts and leaves it there, pushing my shorts and underwear down to my knees. His grip is still tight around my wrists; he sits back on his heels. His eyes are hot on me, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. 

"Like what you see?" I joke. 

"Was that not obvious?" He retorts, raising an eyebrow. 

"I want you." I try again. 

"Where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care. I just want to feel you inside me, please."

His eyes are heated, and his pupils dilated, and I'm so fucking turned on, I feel moisture against my thighs. 

"Cloud, please," I cry. 

"On your knees," he says. 

"What?" I'm not sure I've heard him right. I'm not sure where in the actual fuck this Cloud has been hiding, but I could get used to him. 

He's grabbing my wrists and hoisting me up, pulling my shirt off the rest of the way. He hikes me over his shoulder, and I shake my shorts the rest of the way off as I feel them fall away from my ankle. I scream as he carries me to the bedroom and drops me on the bed. 

"Turn over, on your knees," he tells me, nodding toward the bed. I flip over onto my hands and knees, and I feel his hand on my inner thigh, working it's way up. His hands knead my ass hard, and we groan in unison. I need more. Between gripping my wrists and carrying me over his shoulder and kneading my ass, I need more, and I know it's a long shot, but I try it anyway. "Spank me?" I ask him. 

"What?" His hand stops. 

"Spank me, please?"

"How hard?"

"As hard as you can."

"Fuck, Aerith." I feel the heat of his entire palm against my cheek, his thumb caressing me, his other hand soft on my hip. His palm leaves me and immediately returns hard. Definitely not the hardest he could hit, but fuck it felt good. My kind, patient, gentle Cloud, talking dirty and smacking my ass standing behind me while I kneel naked in front of him. 

"You okay?" He asks, pressing his lips against my bare shoulder. His fingers are soft over the abused area. 

"Yes," I breathe loudly. "I'm gonna need that to become part of our everyday routine from now on, though."

We both laugh loudly, as he kisses his way down my back, I feel him against me, and I must have already come with how easily he slid in. His thumbs never stop stroking my hips. 

He falls against the sheets next to me—his hand running through his damp hair. 

"Christ." He chuckles. "Well, we both learned a lot about each other."

I hum happily. "I mean, I'm sure it's no surprise I've had this fantasy _many_ times before. But you definitely beat dirty-talking fantasy Cloud."

"Good."

I wrap myself around him, kiss his cheek and whisper, 

"More than good. Perfect."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so lazy and I know I'm garbage at formatting and grammar, so I've been putting off posting longer than I should have. Thanks to everyone who's still hanging around! You mean more to me than you know! :)

** AERITH  **

When I was eight, the man liked to have my mother, and I dress in wedding attire. My mother was in an ill-fitting moth-eaten browned wedding dress, and I was in a ruffled, fluffy pink dress covered in roses. My mother asked where the clothes came from once, and he smacked her across the face and told her to stop being stupid. I would stand at the end of the room on a small podium and watch as the man, and my mother walked down the makeshift aisle towards me, as the man hummed and whistled Pachelbel Canon in D Major. If my mother choked or misstepped, he would slap her, and they would start over again. 

I remember feeling excited, watching them walk towards me, a giant grin on my face, and bouncing on my toes in anticipation because he said we would be a happy family with a mother and a father and a baby, and I could call him 'daddy.' He would take care of us forever. He said he and my mother loved each other very much, but sometimes my mother misbehaved and made things difficult. 

When I hear Pachelbel's Canon now, I feel sick. That man didn't love us, and he beat and raped my mother repeatedly, to a point where some mornings, she could barely walk. Denise jokes that she chose to be a lesbian because she couldn't bear the thought of spending more time than she had to with men, but she still wanted to be loved. She said she never wanted to be alone with another man. The only two men in her entire world she trusts to be near are Cloud and Ryder. How horrible is that? She's been treated so poorly that she only trusts two people from an entire gender.

Every Monday, Margot, Denise, Mara, Tara, and I go out for dinner and drinks. Mara comes in late tonight, her shoulders pulled tight to her ears, and she's squealing running to our booth. She holds out her left hand and on her ring finger is a silver band with a small diamond in the center. 

"Holy shit!" I yell and leap out of the booth, grabbing her hand and wrapping her in my arms.

We scream for the next hour, gushing about her wedding plans. I think of Clara and how we used to lay on our backs on our beds and describe our dream weddings. Now another girl describes her dream wedding with the same boy Clara wanted hers to be with, and my throat hurts from choking back tears. Margot grabs my wrist and squeezes it tightly because she must know what I'm thinking. 

Margot gasps loudly and squeezes my wrist hard before pulling back. The entire booth turns to stare at her, and she laughs wildly, pulling a small clothes box from her bag and handing it to me. 

"Denise and I found it the other day while we were shopping, and we just _had_ to get it for you!" Margot explains to the confused look on my face. 

"Correction, we saw it, and Go wanted to get it for you," Denise deadpans, swirling the small straw around in her tumbler. 

I shake the box and smirk, pulling the red ribbon loose off of it. All of Margot's teeth are showing, her hands clasped tightly under her chin, watching excitedly. Inside, tucked inside red tissue paper, I see a pile of dark purple satin and raise an eyebrow at Margot. 

"They're clouds!" She squeals, and Denise rolls her eyes, taking a swig of her drink. 

"You bought me lingerie?" I ask, pulling the small tank top and matching shorts out of the box. There are two white clouds over the nipples of the top and one cloud over the crotch of the shorts. I laugh incredulously, passing them around the table. 

"They're _clouds_ , and they come off!" Margot explains. 

"You are ridiculous!" Mara howls, pulling a cloud off one of the nipples. 

"Stop! Cloud is going to _love_ it!" Margot yells and winks at me. I hug Margot hard from the side and kiss her cheek loudly. Mara is right. Margot is ridiculous, arguably more ridiculous than me, but I couldn't imagine my life without her. I couldn't imagine my life without any of these women surrounding me. 

** CLOUD  **

"We don't have to match. Just wear something nice!" Aerith yells from the bathroom. 

I groan, shuffling through our closet. Aerith steps out from the bathroom and wraps her arms around my waist, stepping on her tiptoes and kissing my cheek. 

"Do you want me to pick something out for you?" She teases. 

I shrug, running my fingers through my hair. "Kind of, yeah."

She pulls her hair out of her messy bun and shakes her long thick locks free. She taps her index finger against her chin and skips over to the closet. I don't know what it is about Aerith's hair down, but it's almost intoxicating. Her hair's ends reach below her tailbone, her hair thick and her curls full, perfectly surrounding her face. Walking up behind her, I grab her hips tightly, pulling her towards me, releasing a squeal from her mouth. She pushes herself back hard against me, as I pull her hair away from her left shoulder and kiss her neck. She hums happily and leans further into me. Grabbing her breast hard underneath her shirt, she moans my name, and I want her badly. 

"Okay, mister," she breathes, grabbing my hand, "we need to find you something to wear."

"You sure?" I tease, moving my other hand inside her shorts. My fingers almost reach her when she pulls my hand out and intertwines her fingers with mine, turning to face me.

Her eyebrow raised with a sly grin, she says, "what have I done to you? Not that I'm complaining, but right now we need to find you something to wear."

"Okay. What are you wearing?"

"Mm, it's like a dark red," she answers, shuffling through the closet again. Falling back against the mattress, I stare up at the ceiling fan and listen to Aerith humming. The hangers in the closet clicking against each other. 

"Who walks down the aisle?" I ask. 

She giggles. "Whoever wants to, I guess. I think it's Margot, though."

She turns and pulls a white button-down from its hanger and clicks her tongue, observing it. 

"I probably know about as much as you do about lesbian weddings, my love," she says, hanging the shirt back up. 

I start chewing on my thumbnail and snort loudly. I've never been to a wedding, and neither has Aerith, but she says she's seen enough of them in movies, and how different can they be? I rub the heels of my palms hard against my eyes. I've been having dreams about Zack again, and I'm not sure why that is. Most nights, I wake up shaking and sweating, and Aerith pushes my damp bangs from my forehead and holds me until I fall asleep again. 

"Are they the same?" She asks me one morning over breakfast, popping a bite of banana in her mouth. 

I shrug and mutter, "Kind of." I don't want to tell Aerith, but they're not. Usually when I have bad dreams about Zack, it's when the police gunned him down on the outskirts of town, blood splattering across my face, kneeling next to him. The police handcuffed me, as I tried to shake them off, watching Zack cough up blood left alone on the ground. I remember one of the cops punching me hard in the stomach, and all I could smell was blood. I had just turned thirteen, and I remember crying until tears blurred my vision. One of the cops hung onto me, pushing me forward hard until I fell to the ground, and he would lift me back up again and do this over and over until we reached my front door. 

Lately, these bad dreams involve Zack's parents greeting me at his door. I make my way upstairs to his bedroom, and when I open the door, Zack is in bed with someone. When they notice I'm there, they turn to look at me, and he's with Aerith, and she's pulling the covers over her chest. Honestly, I couldn't say which dream I hate more. I know Aerith loves me. But there's always part of me that knows that if Zack we're still here and he had met Aerith, she would have ended up with him. Everyone loved Zack. Every girl's head turned when he walked by. Aerith would have loved him. He would have made her laugh and known all the right things to say. He was stronger and braver than I am. Anyway, I have this dream most nights now. 

** AERITH  **

Margot and Denise have their wedding at a small bar in the heart of downtown. The six of us—Ryder, Mara, Tara, Tara's new boyfriend, Cloud, and I share a cab. Cloud looks so handsome in a light blue button-down tucked into dark blue pants and a matching tie. His hair, arguably, messier than usual. It has a mind of its own, rebelling because we tried to tame it. We met up at Tara's before we left, taking a couple shots and chatting. I had never met Tara's new boyfriend, but she seems very happy. In the hallway, he told me I had really pretty hair, not like Tara's. I told Cloud this, and his brows pinched together, and he held me tight at his side for most the night, but I still don't like the way he looks at me. 

Denise and Margot don't have a bridal party, and it's a very small wedding. Margot's younger brother and sister stand at Margot and Denise's sides, holding Margot's bouquet and passing them the rings. I nudged Cloud hard when Margot walked down the aisle and wiggled my eyebrows at him because I love being right. He snorted and kissed my hair. A cello and a piano player played 'Can't Help Falling In Love,' and both girls cried hard when they saw each other. My hands are clasped tightly over my chest, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Cloud staring at me.

I've known Cloud for nine years. I have never seen Cloud dance, not even stupidly, while we're drinking. I've never even seen him sway. Cloud does not dance. So, when I see his open hand in front of me, reaching out, I want to cry. He's a terrible dancer. He's stiff and rigid and clumsy, but I swear it makes me love him more. He holds my hand in his, his other wrapped loosely around my waist, and I rest my head on his shoulder, listening to him sing softly in my ear. I wonder if he's doing this because Tara's boyfriend said I had prettier hair than her and Cloud knows how much I hated that. Denise and Margot first bonded in rehab over their love for One Direction. We must have listened to an entire album of theirs, but nobody cared. Watching Denise and Margot sneak kisses when they thought no one was looking and laughing that Cloud proudly sang and knew all the lyrics to What a Feeling, it was hard to think of anything but how that tiny rented out bar was filled with all the people I love most. 

"Have you guys seen Ryder?" Mara asks later, pressing her fingers against Cloud and my shoulders. We both shake our heads, and she frowns and bites at her lip. 

"Do you want us to help you find him?" I ask. 

She nods, and Cloud and I look at each other and shrug. A waitress walks around with saucers filled with shots and asks if we want one. We ended up taking three each and forgot we were looking for Ryder. Mara and I stumble down the hall arm in arm with Cloud dancing in front of us, and my face hurts, and my eyes are filled with tears from laughing so hard. We watch Cloud disappear around the corner as Mara trips and falls to the ground, dragging me down with her. When we catch our breath and pick each other back up, we find Cloud around the corner, his arm held out in front of us. I hear Mara gasp loudly and push past Cloud. I peek over his arm and see a boy pressing a girl hard against the wall with his hand up her dress. I almost scream because I know it must be Tara's boyfriend, with a girl that doesn't look like Tara. 

I lunge forward after Mara, and Cloud grabs me around the waist. Mara strikes the boy hard on his back, and when he turns around, the last face I expected to see was Ryder's.

** CLOUD  **

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Mara repeatedly yells in the cab. 

I'm sitting in the front seat, pressing my head hard against the window, and trying to drown out her yelling, which is certainly not helping my pounding headache. I ignore my phone vibrating in my pocket. I know who it is. It's Ryder. He's been calling and texting me incessantly. I'm sure the two girls in the back are getting just as many notifications on their phones. I hear Aerith try to comfort her and feel her gentle fingers on my shoulder through the space between the headrest and the window. I lean into her touch as she lets her fingers run through the hair at the nape of my neck. 

"I can't believe I was going to marry him, Aerith!" I glance over at our cab driver, who is staring forward with a straight look on his face. I wonder if he's being polite or if he's really not paying attention. I'm almost tempted to ask him how common this is and what's the worst he's ever seen, but I don't. I reach my hand back to grab Aerith's fingers and run my thumb over her knuckles. 

"I mean, this is a good thing this happened, right?" She pauses. "Cloud? What do you think?"

I exhale loudly, and I feel even the cab driver's eyes on me, waiting for my response. "I don't know, Mara. Seemed pretty out of character," I shrug. "I think he was really drunk."

"That's not an excuse," she bites back. 

"Not saying it's an excuse. Just an observation," I respond dryly. 

My head is pounding harder, and the cab smells like perfume and alcohol, and I feel nauseous. I pinch the bridge of my nose hard with my thumb and forefinger and glance out the window. We're probably about ten minutes from home, and I wonder how much sleep I'll get tonight with Mara staying with us. I feel rude and insensitive, but I just don't care. That was fucked up of Ryder to do that. But Ryder can be fucked up. He does dumb shit like everyone else. 

"We'll just relax and have fun tonight and deal with whatever tomorrow, yeah?" Aerith comforts Mara. 

"I hate him, Aerith," she cries. 

I roll my eyes, coming to terms with the fact that I probably won't get much sleep tonight.

While I'm tipping the driver and waving him off, Aerith helps Mara stumble up the stairs to our apartment. Aerith's holding her around the waist and her shoulder as Mara continues whining. Aerith turns back to me and mouths, 'sorry,' and I shrug and give her a half-smile. In bed, I hear Mara crying loudly, and I pull my pillow over my head. I'm not sure what time it is when I fall asleep. 

Aerith wakes me when she crawls into bed and kisses my forehead. She lifts my arm and curls beneath it. 

"You okay?" I ask her, rubbing my eyes. 

"Yeah, I just feel bad for her. Like what the fuck was Ryder thinking?" She whispers. 

I shrug. "I told him not to get engaged."

"So, what? You think just because they're engaged, that's why he cheated on her?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I don't know what I meant. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Are you saying if we get engaged, you'll cheat on me?" She asks and backs away from me, sitting up on her elbow. 

"What?" I breathe. "No! How did you possibly get that from what I said?"

"Sounds like you're blaming her for being engaged to him."

"What is happening right now, Aerith? I don't have an opinion on this. It was fucked up, but I have no idea what happened. I didn't talk to Ryder."

"It was pretty fucking clear he was making out with someone who's _not_ Mara. What's there to talk to him about?"

"Why are you getting upset with me?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry," she sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired."

We lay in silence for awhile, and I sigh and glance down at her. "You look really pretty," I tell her. 

She chuckles and kisses me hard, and I feel her fingers dip into my pants, and I feel her hand wrap around me. It feels insensitive having sex with your girlfriend, who you're very much in love with; neither of you trying to be quiet as your friend lays out in your living room because her fiance had his tongue down another girl's throat and his hand up her dress. But, I still don't care, especially when Aerith moans my name loudly and pulls my hair when she feels my tongue inside her.

The next morning, Ryder is still calling me. I tell him Mara is still sleeping in the living room, and he asks me to meet him for coffee. He looks like shit, and I smile because he deserves to look like shit, and I hope he feels as bad as he looks. 

"What did she say?" He asks when I sit down and pull the lid off my large black coffee. 

"She called you a fucking asshole a lot," I reply flatly, blowing on my coffee. 

"Shit, dude," he drops his head in his hands and roughly runs them through his hair, "I feel like such a fucking idiot," he mutters. 

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say, because he's right and he should feel like a fucking idiot. 

"You haven't even been engaged for a week." 

His head snaps up, and his eyes are narrowed. "Don't you think I know that?" he hisses. 

"I've never done anything like this," he continues, "I don't even know what to say to her. I don't even know what that girl's name was." 

I raise my eyebrows and take a long swig of my coffee. "Probably wouldn't tell her that." 

"Fuck you, man. You're supposed to be helping me."

"What happened?" I ask, as he leans back and hits his head hard against the back of the chair. 

He exhales loudly and shakes his head. "I don't even really remember. That's what's so fucked up. I remember running into her in the hall, and she kept flirting with me, and it just happened." 

"She was a lot taller than you, I'm surprised," I joke. 

Ryder laughs loudly. "Fuck you, man." 

I shrug. "She'll forgive you. Just give her time, I guess." 

"Dude," Ryder starts, taking a sip of his drink, "What the fuck was up with Tara's boyfriend? He was a fucking creep staring at Aerith the whole night." 

"You noticed, too, huh?"

"He kept asking me about her and how serious you two were. I told him to back off, or I'd kick his fucking ass."

"Well, now I feel bad for agreeing with Mara when she called you a fucking asshole the rest of the night." 

"Worst best friend ever."

We both laugh hard, maybe because we're not sure what else to do. I didn't like the way Tara's boyfriend was staring at Aerith, and I don't like that Tara's with him. I don't like that Ryder doesn't remember why he cheated on his fiance after less than a week of being engaged. I don't like that I look at him, and I feel like I don't even really know him, and I wonder how well I ever did. I don't like that I'm not more upset with him for cheating on a girl who loves him. But, I can't stop thinking about how uncomfortable Tara's boyfriend made me. I can't stop thinking about the look on Aerith's face when she told me what he said to her when they were alone. I don't like that he seems to be another monster Aerith needs protecting from, and I wonder if it will ever stop. 

I wonder if these monsters will ever stop haunting her. 


	11. Chapter 11

**AERITH**

"How long is she staying?" Cloud mumbles brushing his teeth. 

"I don't know. I didn't ask." I say, braiding my hair over my shoulder, sitting up in bed. 

Cloud kisses my forehead and crawls into bed next to me. 

"Does it really bother you?" I ask, frowning at the lackluster results of my braid and flicking it behind me. 

Cloud shrugs facing me, resting his ear against his arm. 

"It's been two weeks," he whispers. "Honestly, they're both starting to drive me insane."

I laugh loudly, nuzzling my face in his chest and inhaling deeply. His hair is damp, and his skin smells like soap, and he's still warm from his shower. Mara hasn't talked to Ryder, and Ryder won't stop calling or texting any of us. I know Cloud is frustrated because his huffs are loud, and he's short with Mara. But, she cleans and cooks dinner for us most nights, so I don't complain. What bothers Cloud most is how late Mara likes to sleep in. It's noon on Saturday, and she's still curled up on the couch snoring. Cloud huffs and rolls his eyes, padding into the dark kitchen and grabbing leftovers from the fridge. 

"You're just going to eat that cold?" I ask, scrolling through my phone tucked under our covers. He joins me with his food and two forks, sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter. 

"Don't really have a choice, do I?" He mumbled, his mouth full. 

"You don't have to be such a brat about it, Cloud. You're allowed to use the microwave. This is still your home."

"Doesn't really feel like it." He mutters, handing me a fork. I nod because I know what he means. Mara tells us to let her know if we need alone time. She tells us to pretend she's not there, but she is there, and it's hard to ignore her when we tiptoe around quietly at noon and confine ourselves to our bedroom when we're home. It's hard to pretend when three people are sharing a tiny one-bedroom apartment. But Mara is kind, and Ryder was an ass, and she has nowhere else to go. 

"What time are people coming over?" Mara asks me that afternoon, standing on her tiptoes to put her blanket and pillow on the top shelf of the linen closet. 

"Mm, I'm not sure. I think around six," I respond, nursing the pots on the stove filled with various appetizers. 

"And Ryder's coming?" She asks quietly, and I swear there's a hint of hopefulness in her voice. 

"I think so. Are you excited to see him?"

Mara doesn't answer. I turn from the stove and find Mara fixing her hair in the mirror and pulling at her skin. Yes, she's excited.

It's loud, and people are crammed into our small apartment that evening. Square footage is a luxury in the city, and shockingly our 815 square foot one bedroom is the biggest out of everyones. So we offer to host parties often. 

"Never have I ever!" Margot yells, wriggling her eyebrows to the group. A few 'boos' can be heard throughout our living room and kitchen. 

"Oh, come on! You guys are no fun! Aerith?" Margot tilts her bottle towards me and winks. 

"Sure! Why not?" I exclaim, sitting on the floor next to her. Ryder, Denise, and Cloud are sitting on our barstools, lost in their own conversation, and Tara and her new boyfriend are cuddled on the couch. Margot, Mara, and I are huddled on the floor as Margot continually clears her throat to gain everyone's attention. 

"The game is 'Never Have I Ever!'" She yells, and everyone turns to look at her. 

"Go, no one wants to play," Denise says. 

"Clo-Clo does, dontcha?" Margot says, winking at Cloud. 

Cloud sighs and joins us on the floor. Denise and Ryder follow behind him, pulling chairs closer to the group. 

"Alright, hold up five fingers. We go around the circle, everyone says something they've never done, but you know other people in the group have, so they have to put a finger down, if you have to put a finger down, take a drink, whoever puts all fingers down, chugs a beer," Margot explains.

"Never have I ever gotten a tattoo," Mara starts, and Ryder, Tara, and Tara's boyfriend put a finger down and take a drink. 

"Never have I ever been in rehab," Tara teases, earning her boos. Margot tosses the pillow she was sitting on at Tara. Tara intercepts it, sticking her tongue out at Margot. 

Her boyfriend laughs loudly. "All of you were in rehab? That's crazy!"

"That's how they all met," Tara explains. 

Margot taps her index finger against her chin, her eyes wandering around the room when it's her turn. "Never have I ever had sex with Tara." 

Cloud's face turns the deepest shade of red I've ever seen as all eyes glance towards him, his finger still raised. 

"Come on, Strife!" Ryder yells. 

Tara's boyfriend, guffaws. "I can't believe you used to fuck this guy, babe. What were you even in rehab for, buddy?" He asks Cloud. 

"Excuse you? What's that supposed to mean," I yell. His obnoxious laugh and voice have already pissed me off, but the moment he thought to open his stupid mouth and talk about Cloud, I wanted to strangle him. I thought about pinning him to the ground and wrapping my fingers tight around his neck. He's lucky to even be in the same room as Cloud. 

"Nothing! Chill, honey. He just seems like a goody goody."

Denise yells at him for calling me honey, and my fingers and forearms are sore from how tightly held my fists are. Mara and Margot tell him to shut up. 

"Babe," Tara says softly, placing a hand against his chest. "Don't. Just drop it, okay?" 

She's too patient with him, and he doesn't deserve her. He doesn't deserve any of us. This is my family, and I will fight anyone who comes up against us. I grip Cloud's bicep tightly, and he glances down at me and gives me a sad smile. It seems strange, but Cloud gets questioned a lot what he was in rehab for. He hears all the time that people can't imagine him there. I tell him that's a good thing, and he asks me where people think he does belong then. I hold his face in my hands and kiss all the freckles on his cheeks and tell him he belonged there because I was there, and so was the rest of his family.

He rests his forehead against mine and tells me he loves me, and I hear him sniffle. I want to cry too because I know how alone he feels. All Cloud has ever wanted was a place to belong. Someone who cared about him. He hides it, but I know he has nightmares about losing me. When he jolts awake and hurls himself upright in bed, his hands are frantic until they find me. When I wake up in the middle of the night and tiptoe to the bathroom, there are times when I'll hear him yell my name because I'm not there. He woke up alone. I sprint around the corner and tell him I'm here, and his shoulders relax, and he tells me he's sorry. 

We're still fucked up. But we're adults now. Loved, fucked up adults who would die for one another. All of us have seen each other at our absolute worst. All of them have seen me lying limp in Cloud's arms wet and turning blue as he cried hysterically. Denise told me what happened that day. That Cloud was inconsolable, his fists white from holding me so tightly. That he rocked himself back and forth, my naked body draped in his arms as tears poured from his eyes, and Denise and Elmyra held him because they didn't know what else to do. They told me the only person who would have known lay lifeless in his arms.

**CLOUD**

I'm not sure what Denise and Ryder are talking about. I'm not paying attention. I can't stop watching Tara's boyfriend's eyes shift to Aerith whenever Tara's not looking. The look on his face is disgusting like he's preying on her. I don't want him here. But Tara is a friend, and I suppose I'd rather they be here than her being alone with him. 

"Hey Ryder," Denise asks, taking a swig of her beer. "Why did you cheat on Mara?" 

He sighs loudly and pounds a fist on the bar counter. "Is it even really cheating? I mean, we just made out." 

"Uh, yeah. You were intimate with someone who is not your fiancee. I would call that cheating, bud," Denise says. 

They both look towards me, and I shrug, picking the paper label off my beer bottle. 

"Whatever. I don't know. It sounds stupid, but she reminded me of Clara, and I know that's not an excuse or whatever, but it was just kind of nice to be with her again," Ryder mutters, glancing at a spot on the carpet.

Denise stands from her chair and wraps her arms around Ryder's neck and strokes his hair. It's loud, so I can't hear what she says, but I see her lips moving near his ear. When I tell Aerith this, she frowns and nods. She says she understands and that if she had found Clara, she would never have let her go again.

Margot calls my name, so I join the rest of the group in the living room, sitting next to Aerith. Margot's eyes narrow when it's her turn, and she smirks at me. I hear Aerith snort, and I feel everyone's eyes on me after Margot says, "Never have I ever had sex with Tara." 

Margot winks at me, and I clench my jaw hard. Tara gives me a sympathetic smile, and I don't want to play anymore. I didn't want to play in the first place, and I knew I shouldn't have. I wish I would have said no, but now it's too late, and I'm not sure why I care so much. Tara's boyfriend's laugh fills the room, and I flinch at the sound. He asks what I was in rehab for and laughs at Tara for having ever slept with me, and I get it. I can't be mad at him. He's right. The girls start yelling at him, and Aerith is in his face pointing her finger hard at him, and now it's my turn to give Tara a sympathetic smile as she tries to calm the room. I've been on the receiving end of Aerith when she's angry, and I do not envy this guy. We stop playing after everyone calms down again, and I don't think anyone's upset by this. 

My head starts pounding, and I sneak away to our bedroom and shut the door. After closing my eyes with my face in the pillow for a while, I pop some Advil and head back out to the living room. Walking through the hallway, Aerith whispers my name and waves me over. She presses her ear against the bathroom door and signals for me to do the same. Aerith covers her mouth, her eyes wide, and she's trying not to laugh at the sound of muffled moans on the other side of the door. I scan the room quickly to spot who's missing. 

"Who is it?" She asks me, giggling. 

I'm still taking a headcount when I notice Ryder and Mara appear to be missing. 

"Sounds like Mara," Aerith whispers. 

"It is. Ryder's missing too."

Aerith's eyes widen further, and her mouth drops, and she starts hopping up and down in place. I know what she's thinking. It's safe to assume if Ryder and Mara are having sex in our bathroom, they've probably made up or will make up. Aerith throws her arms around my neck and squeals. We hear a loud moan and a bang against the door. We both jump and snicker, running out to the living room. If this means we get our apartment to ourselves again, I'm not letting anyone near that bathroom. 

**AERITH**

Cloud tells me what Ryder said about the girl at the wedding. I don't know why I'm relieved to hear it. Poor Mara. Second to a ghost. We all like Mara, but she's no Clara. Clara, with her gorgeous cascading strawberry blonde locks and her dark brown eyes and sun-kissed skin. Clara, who was small and kind who died at the hands of her father. He should have been charged for manslaughter. He didn't drive his fingers down her throat, but he put his fingers in other places they didn't belong. Her fingers might never have been down her throat if he had never touched her with his. Now that she's dead, I wonder if her parents still consider themselves parents. They never deserved to be parents in the first place. They took advantage of it. They took advantage of her. 

"Need help?" Cloud offers, the morning after the party. 

I shake my head and smile wide at him. Standing on my tiptoes to reach the linen closet's top shelf, I put Mara's extra pillow and blanket away. She spent the night at Ryder's last night, and Cloud and I had very loud sex on our couch after everyone had left, in celebration. An envelope flutters down from the top shelf. It's unmarked, and it looks new. Inside there's a hefty stack of pages. I'm not sure what I'm looking at. It looks like legal documents, like prison records, or something. The last page is a typed letter addressed to Cloud from a law firm I don't recognize. 

_Dear Mr. Strife:_

_Thank you for reaching out to us. We pulled a list of names of all the inmates released. There was one man who fit the description, Jeffrey Adams, he spent ten years in prison for the abduction of a young mother and her daughter. He held them in his backyard for six months, until a neighbor called the police. There was no husband or father in the picture. The mother and daughter are still alive._

_I do, however, recall the case you're referring to. A man abducted a young mother and infant daughter from their home, murdering the husband. After the daughter was found, she and her grandmother told police she was held in a homemade bunker for eleven years with her mother. The mother's autopsy reports showed years of sexual and physical abuse. An older woman in the area found the young girl crying next to her mother's body while walking her dog. The girl had only told her that the woman on the ground was her mother. When police arrived at the scene, the body of a man and a woman were found, and the girl was taken to the hospital. The woman had died from a gunshot to the neck, and the man had died of a self-inflicted wound. I hope this information helps to assist in what you're trying to accomplish. Let us know if we can be of assistance in the future._

My throat is dry, and my hands are shaking. The pages crinkled in my fingers. My voice is shaky as I call for Cloud. He doesn't respond, so I yell louder. Frantic now. When he turns the corner and asks what's wrong, I hold the envelope and the crinkled pages up to his face.

"What is this?" I hiss. 

"Aerith, I can explain," he says slowly. 

"Then do it!" 

Cloud puts his hands up and steps towards me slowly. 

"When we first met, and when you first told me about the bunker, you told me that man was dead. You said he shot himself. Then, at my birthday party, you said he was released from prison. I thought there might have been a chance I misremembered what you had told me. There was no trial. You never had to appear in court. You and your grandmother made a statement to the police, and that was all. The case was closed. If that man were still alive, you probably would have had to testify. He certainly wouldn't have been let out after murdering two people and holding a woman and her child hostage for eleven years. Not after only eight years. It just didn't make sense."

"You're wrong," I try to keep my voice steady, but I can feel my entire body shaking. 

"What do you mean?"

"I saw him on TV that day, Cloud. I will never forget his face. It haunts me."

"You saw someone who _looked_ like him. Someone who was in prison for abducting a mother and her child. But it wasn't you and your mother, Aerith."

"Why wouldn't you tell me this?"

"You left. I was looking into it before you disappeared."

"Why wouldn't you just ask me? You went behind my back. You kept this from me!" My face is hot, and I close my eyes tightly to keep the tears in. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Aerith. I just wanted to understand."

"We're you ever going to tell me?" I ask, looking up at him, as I feel the tears stream down my cheeks. 

"Honestly, I don't know," he responds, defeated. 

I scoff, throwing the pages at him. 

"What were you trying to prove? That I'm insane?" I'm yelling now, and I watch him flinch. 

"No, of course not," he mutters. 

"Then, what was it? What was the point of all this? How am I even supposed to trust you now?" 

"I don't know!" he stammers, raising his voice. "I don't know, Aerith, I really don't. I think I liked the comfort of knowing he was dead and when you told me he wasn't, I don't know. It scared me, I think. It scared me that there was someone else out there who hurt you." 

I relax and sigh loudly, walking towards him and resting my forehead against his chest. I feel his arms wrap around me, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. 

"It really wasn't him?" I whisper into his shirt. 

"No, it really wasn't him," he whispers into my hair. 

"I told you this isn't your responsibility."

"You're my responsibility."

I chuckle and shake my head, glancing back up at him. He kisses my forehead and wipes away the tears staining my cheeks. 

“Why do you make it impossible for me to stay angry at you?”

I feel him shrug. “I don’t know. Because I’m so charming and lovable.”

We both chuckle and he kisses the top of my head and pulls me back into his arms.

"I want it," I tell him. 

"Want what?" He asks, his brows furrowed. 

"The big house. The yard full of kids. I'm ready." 

He smiles and kisses my forehead again. 

"Okay." 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My motivation is dwindling, but I'm determined to finish this story. Thanks for hanging in there!

** AERITH  **

When I was twelve, my grandmother would wake suddenly to the crack of thunder in the middle of the night, finding me outside with my arms outstretched and my face tilted towards the sky. I would hear her muffled yells through the rain falling around me. Finally, walking back inside to the warmth of her home, she would wrap me in a towel and rub my shoulders, telling me I'll catch cold standing out in the cold and wet rain. 

Now, when my arms are outstretched as water pours down against my face, I open my eyes, and Cloud's standing next to me, his hair as flat as it can be, eyes closed, and face towards the sky. We watch as families race by hiding under their umbrellas or hoods. I've never understood what's so terrifying about the rain. It's comforting, as the warm droplets surround you. Cloud carries me inside, and our cold, wet lips crash into each other, and I grab the front of his soaked jeans. He gasps softly. "So we don't catch cold," I explain. We peel our clothes off, giggling because his pants won't come off, and I feel the warmth of his lips against my chest as the cold drops of rain fall from the ends of his hair down my neck. 

It's strange to think about now, but I don't know anything about my father. I don't remember his name. Or how old he was. Or how old he would be. I don't know anything about my family. Cloud doesn't know about his either. His entire life burst into flames when he was fourteen, taking his mother with it. So, I take photographs—a lot of them. Cloud laughs and tells me I can't carry them with me into the afterlife. I stick out my tongue at him playfully. "Watch me," I tell him. I like taking pictures of Cloud's hair in the sunlight. The rays reflect through the ridiculous spikes, and he looks beautiful. The first time I touched his hair, I was surprised. He asked me why, and I told him I didn't expect it to be so soft like a satin pillowcase or chinchilla fur. He smiles and closes his eyes. I ask him where he got his hair from, and he tells me he's not sure. I ask if he thinks his kids will have his hair. He laughs and says, "for their sake, I hope not." I push his bangs off his forehead and kiss the bare skin there and whisper, "for my sake, I hope they do."

Sometimes I wonder if his dreams are the same as mine, or if he's doing this to make me happy. Mara tells me not to force him. That he's not good with kids, and maybe he shouldn't have kids, and maybe we're not right for each other. I tell her she's wrong. Cloud would be great with children if he would allow himself to be. He wouldn't treat them like children. He would listen, and children need that. Still, I volunteer at local group homes and ask if Cloud wants to join me. His cheeks turn pink, and he fidgets uncomfortably, and I don't push him any further. He asks me what kid would even want to hang out with him. I'm not sure what to say, so I say nothing. He donates a lot of money to group homes and schools. He helped build a science department, and when the school asked him what he would like it named, he said, "Aerith." I wonder what students think about walking through the halls of Aerith. 

When I was nine, the man let me into his greenhouse. It was filled wall to wall with tall green potted trees. I pressed my fingers against the leaves, and he would pull my wrist away and tell me this wasn't for children. It smelled like skunk, but I liked it. I felt like I was hidden in a forest under the cover of the sun. The forest belonged to me, and I was alone to wander and live as I pleased. It was my favorite place. But the truth is, it wasn't a forest. It was a crappy drug house filled with weed under bright lights in a homemade bunker. Maybe that's why I like the rain so much. I can touch it. I can feel it. It's real. It's not camouflaged under a child's imagination to cope with the terrible things that happened to them.

** CLOUD  **

My side of the closet becomes bare quicker than Aerith's. She tells me boys' clothes are more comfortable than girls' and I can't argue. The sound of music from the living room wakes me, and Aerith's side of the bed is cold. I find her in the kitchen in my Young the Giant t-shirt and her black lace panties that accentuate her hips. Her music is loud enough that she doesn't hear me behind her. She moans when she feels my fingers on her hips, and I push myself hard against her. 

"Nice shirt," I whisper in her ear, kissing her jaw. 

She hums happily, reaching her hand around my backside, her fingers pulling me even closer. I know she can feel how hard I am because she teases me about waking up excited. She moans my name when I slide my hand beneath the thin black material. She spreads her legs and leans forward, and I nibble at her neck, the sounds of her soft gasping making me harder. 

"Tell me to stop?" I ask.

"Never," she breathes. 

I don't remember being overly horny or sexually excited as a teen. Maybe it was the lack of privacy or the dysfunction that overtook my life. Sometimes I think I must be making up for those lost years now because the thought of Aerith is usually more than enough to get me hard. My name is quiet and desperate on her lips as my fingers work inside her. She wiggles her hips, and I know what she wants. Her breath quickens when she feels my fingers pressed against her ass. She moans when I lift my hand and smack her hard. I want to pull the black lace higher up her hips. I feel the delicate material rip beneath my fingers when I do. 

"Shit, Cloud. Those were my favorite," she hisses. 

"Yeah, mine too," I say. 

She lets her head rest against my shoulder. We both laugh as I press myself inside her, the torn lace falling around her ankles.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you," she whispers as I thrust into her. I kiss her cheek and nod because I know what she means. 

"Are you still having these dreams?" My therapist asks behind his glasses, lowered down to the tip of his nose. His office is always cold, and the only window in the room faces a brown brick building next door. But Marle recommended him, and I would feel bad if I stopped coming to see him. So I try to ignore the temperature and the dreary view outside. His voice is gruff, and I focus on the golden band around his ring finger. There are picture frames on his desk, but they're facing away from us.

"Do you have kids?" I ask. 

He clears his throat and tells me he has three girls. His youngest is a senior in high school. I ask if he's always wanted to be a father, focusing on the lines around his eyes and forehead. He tells me, yes, and when I ask if he's ever scared, his laugh makes me jump.

"Every single day, Cloud," he enunciates.

"How did you know you would be a good father?" I ask, staring at the carpet. 

"I didn't," he says. "There are days I still wonder if I am. They will test you every moment, and that doesn't ever end. You will learn patience and compromise and how to communicate with your partner in order to co-parent. They will push you to the edge, and you will have moments of weakness, but at the end of the day, when they come running into your arms, and you hear them laugh and see them smile, it's all worth it."

He clears his throat again, and the room grows quiet. I don't want to disappoint Aerith. I want to be a good husband and a father because she deserves that, but I'm not sure how. Neither of us had ideal childhoods with responsible functioning relationships or parents to model our behavior after. We were alone. Honestly, it's impressive we can have any relationships at all. These thoughts keep me up most nights now.

"Cloud, are you still having the dreams?" he asks again.

I shake my head.

"You don't dream if you don't sleep," I shrug.

He sighs and glances at his watch, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair. I don't want to talk about dreams anymore. I wonder if he's hoping I don't come back. 

** AERITH  **

Cloud's eyes are pinched together tightly. I watch his mouth move each time he winces, and the humming of the needle isn't helping. I'm pulling my lips in tight to suppress my laughter as I squeeze his hand tightly and watch the tattoo artist trace over my lines. Sometimes when we're bored with television, we put on music. I sit cross-legged on the floor, with Cloud's head in my lap, talking about nothing while Cloud listens with his eyes closed. My pen scribbling on his arms. One night, while we're brushing our teeth, I catch a glimpse of the flowers in his reflection in the mirror and tell him he would look sexy with a tattoo. He spits into the sink and rinses his toothbrush. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at me in the mirror and says, "Okay. Let's do it."

I tell him I want to redo it because I can do better and if it's going to be permanent, it should be perfect like him. He lays with his head in my lap patiently as I focus on the placement and design of flowers, his fingers rubbing the outside of my thigh is distracting. It takes me longer than it should when I feel his fingers slip into my shorts. The artist's arms and hands are covered in tattoos. She's in a small black tank top, and I wonder how many she has that I can't see. She smiles at Cloud when he winces. She's very pretty. She reminds me of Tifa, but with more makeup and curly hair and ink covering her body. I feel Cloud's nails digging into my hand, and I give him a gentle squeeze, pushing his bangs off his forehead. The tattoo artist chuckles. 

"You getting one next?" She asks me. 

I shake my head and tell her I was thinking about getting Cloud's name tattooed on my ass, and he stares at me, his cheeks already pink, and the tattoo artist stops moving the needle and throws her head back to laugh. She asks how long we've been together, and I tell her not long enough. We've known each other for twelve years now. I watch the needle trace petals against Cloud's forearm. Flowers already fill his bicep, as I keep my fingers pressed against his temple, combing through his hair. 

"What does it feel like?" I ask him, and he shrugs with his uninked shoulder. 

"Just kind of stings."

"Well, it looks super sexy already!" I exclaim, and we all laugh. 

Sometimes I wonder what Mara and Tara think about us. What do they think when we joke about Ryder shooting up heroin in his car's front seat in his school parking lot between classes, or when we laugh about how Margot had a fake ID when she was fifteen and partied with her older brother's friends? What did they think when Denise admitted she never minded when her dad touched her as long as she was high, or when we talk about the craziest places we've had sex, and I ask if we're including non-consensual sex. What do they think when we joke about how Cloud has seen more dead bodies than naked women. I wonder if Tara and Mara ever feel uncomfortable. I wonder if they laugh along because they're not sure what else to do. 

"You know what it is, right?" Margot explains over her drink after I ask her why I seem to attract the worst guys. "You're friendly with everyone. So, stupid boys think you're flirting with them, and you so obviously want their dicks."

Margot is beautiful. I see the way boys look at her. Soft light blonde hair that falls below her shoulders and dark green eyes. Her skin is smooth and glowing. Her dark eyelashes contrast eerily with her pale skin. She could be a model if she wanted to be. She's as tall as me, but her ears don't poke out, and she doesn't have sharp edges and an upsetting lack of curves like me. 

I roll my eyes and lazily swirl my straw around my glass. "Why would Tara even want to date this guy? He's gross."

She sighs dramatically. "She just lost the love of her life. Realizing that she will never find a boy better than Cloud, she's on the rebound."

I scoff and flick the drops of my drink off the end of my straw towards her. "So, it's my fault for stealing the love of her life?" I tease. 

"Of course it is, you bitch," she teases and winks at me. 

Tara tells me she's happy with her boyfriend. She's happy he seems to like her friends because he always asks her about me. I don't want to see him again, but Tara invites me over one night, and I tell her yes anyway. Cloud doesn't like it either. I know this because when I tell him about it, all the features of his face slant downward, and he pulls on my hand and asks me not to go.

Holding a bottle of wine and chewing on the inside of my bottom lip, I wait for Tara to open her door. Cloud tells me to text him anything, even just a letter or number or symbol, and he'll come running because Tara lives just downstairs from us. I replay his words in my head and take a deep breath, hoping it doesn't come to that. Tara opens the door excitedly and squeals when she sees me, and I do my best to mirror her emotions. 

Her apartment still smells like pot, and my eyes already feel dry. A faint waft of fresh herbs and marinara sauce peek through occasionally. Tara's boyfriend walks towards me, nursing a beer, and I'm sure it's not his first one this evening. He smiles wide and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. He asks about Cloud and me, and I wonder if I've judged him too harshly. He's friendly and grabs my shoulder a lot when I make him laugh. He makes sure I have a drink and that I'm comfortable, and Tara's eyes light up when she watches him. I can't help but notice how quickly he finished four beers before we sat down at the table. His voice grows more slurred and unintelligible. He knocks over Tara's glass of wine, and I watch as it saturates her spaghetti noodles. Tara stands to grab a towel, and I offer to help, but she tells me to stay put. 

"So, what's on the agenda for tonight?" Her boyfriend asks. He leans close to me, and the scent of beer and cigarettes is overwhelming. 

I smile politely and shrug. I don't like how close he's leaning towards me. 

"We could have a three-way," he offers, and I scoff quietly. 

Tara chuckles, sitting back down at the table. "She's in a relationship, babe."

"So? What he don't know don't hurt him, right?" He winks and squeezes my thigh under the table. 

"Don't touch me," I say softly, avoiding his gaze. 

"What's the matter? Don't like being touched?" His eyes are half-closed, and beads of sweat cover his forehead when he reaches for my thigh again. 

"Not by you," I say and scoot my chair back loudly until I'm standing. 

"Oh, he was just joking around. That's just his weird sense of humor," Tara explains. 

"Do I look like someone who would make you uncomfortable?" he slurs. 

"You look like someone who's used to making girls cry," I mutter and head towards the door.

I don't want to be here anymore, and Tara must know this because she steps aside without saying anything. My fingers are on the doorknob when I turn to see him lunge towards me. Tara stands between us, and my jaw drops when he slaps her hard across the face. I wonder how many times he's done this because Tara doesn't seem to react. She turns to look at me, holding the spot he just hit and tells me she's okay and not to worry. I wonder if she thinks I believe her. My skin is on fire, the blood beneath it boiling and hissing. I'm shaking hard, and I want to kill him. I wonder if this is how Cloud felt with Cory. 

"Touch her again, and I'll kill you," I warn him through gritted teeth. My jaw is sore from biting my teeth together so hard. I can feel my fingernails digging hard into my palms. 

"Aerith!" Tara yells, but I barely hear her.

His smile is disgusting as he steps towards me and pushes me back hard against the door. While I regain my balance, he's making a beeline for Tara, and I grab the half-empty bottle of wine on the table and throw it hard, aiming for his head. The bottle shatters, and drops of blood-red wine cover his back. He turns to face me, and I've never seen this look on anyone's face, but I don't react. I can't react. I won't let him win. He huffs loudly and walks slowly towards me, and when his hands are almost around my neck, I thrust my knee up between his legs and punch him as hard as I can in the nose while he topples loudly to the floor. 

Tara stares at me in fear, her hands covering her mouth. 

"Tara-" I start, kicking his heavy body to the side so I can step around him. 

"Get out," she hisses and points towards the door. I've seen plenty of monsters. I imagine what my face must look like when I'm staring into their eyes. I imagine it's the same look Tara is giving me now.

"He doesn't love you, Tara. That's not love. You deserve someone better."

"Yeah? And what do you know about love, Aerith? You let guys fuck you for drugs."

"I didn't say-"

"You think Cloud loves you? Because you're the first girl he stuck his dick in?" 

I nod and turn towards the door, stepping over her boyfriend's body. I don't care what she says. I'm not the monster here. He is. I defeated the monster. So when she yells at me to leave again, I smile and close the door behind me—humming up the steps towards home, towards Cloud. He must hear me because the door opens when I reach the top of the stairs, and when he smiles and opens his arms for me, I wrap my arms tight around his neck and push him inside our apartment, pressing my lips hard against his. 

I've destroyed one monster. Nothing is stopping me now. 


	13. Chapter 13

**CLOUD**

The first time I watched Aerith die, we're walking through the countryside, my hands in my pockets, strolling aimlessly on the side of the road. It was quiet, only the sounds of birds and Aerith's humming filled the air. She skipped ahead along the gravel road and turned to smile at me. A speeding car appeared from nowhere and ran her over. They kept driving as I watched my girlfriend bleed out on the gravel. 

"I don't know," I mutter. "It's different every time."

"And you're having these dreams frequently?" My therapist asks. 

I nod once. "Every night."

"Have you told Aerith about them?"

I shake my head and glance at my feet. 

"I wake up screaming, and she doesn't ask. She probably figures it was about my mom or Zack."

Aerith doesn't ask me. I don't ever remember screaming, but Aerith tells me I do a lot. I always remember her small warm fingers against my arm. She shushes me softly and pulls my face to her chest. She kisses my head and runs her fingers through my hair and whispers, "it's okay. I'm here," and I wonder for how long, though. 

I know I stop breathing. I'm not sure how long, but I wake up, and I'm out of breath. The worst is when I wake up alone. Aerith's side of the bed is empty, and I think maybe it wasn't a dream at all. I don't mean to, but my mouth involuntarily opens anyway and shouts her name. I hear her padding around the corner quickly. She falls back into our bed and holds my face in her hands and tells me she's sorry. I frown and shake my head. She shouldn't be apologizing. She didn't do anything wrong. If she were with someone normal, she wouldn't have to worry about leaving the bed in the middle of the night for fear her lunatic boyfriend wakes up while she's gone. 

"Cloud, I think it's important you talk to Aerith about this. You have PTSD. This is only adding more stress to keep this from her," my therapist says. 

I don't like it when people tell me I have PTSD. Usually, you hear about soldiers returning home after watching their comrades die in horrific ways fighting for their country. Soldiers are selfless and heroic. But I didn't do anything heroic. I just existed, and bad things happened around me. 

"I'm not keeping anything from her," I mutter. 

He exhales loudly. I've said something wrong, and I don't want to talk anymore. 

"Cloud, I can't help you if you don't talk to me," he sighs, his fingers tapping against his chair's arm. 

I watch the snowfall against the ugly brick outside. I wonder if I'm even worth helping at this point. 

\--

"I don't want anything to do with her, Cloud," Tara exclaims, "I'm sorry, okay? I know that you love her or whatever, but she hasn't reached out to me either."

When Aerith came home from Tara's after the fight, she told me everything with a smile on her face that almost made her eyes disappear. It's hard to be upset with her, having the life she's had, it's understandable. Tara doesn't find it hard, though. Aerith told me she's okay not talking to Tara anymore, but it makes things hard with the group now. They choose between inviting Aerith or Tara and her boyfriend or sometimes both. But if they're both there, they spend their time avoiding each other, while the rest of us try to extinguish the obvious tension. 

Tara asks me to get coffee with her, so I do. When she reaches across the table to grab a packet of sugar, her sleeve rolls up, and I can't help but notice the bruises on her wrist. 

"I'm not telling you what to do," I mumble, picking at the sleeve wrapped around my coffee cup. 

"I was in love with you, you know," she scoffs, wiping her fingers beneath her eyes. "It's always been her, though, hasn't it? No girl ever stood a chance." The last part comes out as a whisper. 

I tell her yes because she's right. The moment I saw Aerith, I couldn't think about anything but her. She wasn't always at the forefront of my thoughts, but she was always there somewhere. When she left me, I felt numb. When I was with Tara, I didn't feel so numb for awhile. 

"Did you care about me at all?" Tara whispers. 

"Yes, but not the way you wanted me to."

She nods as I watch tears well in her eyes. I cringe because I didn't want to upset her. I didn't want to make her cry. I wish I could have loved her the way she loved me. I don't see Tara anymore. I hope she's okay. 

The next morning, Aerith helps me dry dishes, and I know she wants to say something because she's shifting her weight back and forth and clearing her throat. I don't ask. I don't mind the sound of running water and dishes hitting each other. 

"So, what did you do yesterday?" Aerith finally asks, pulling a plate from my hand to dry it. 

I shrug, and suddenly I feel anxious telling Aerith about meeting with Tara. I think she must already know because I see her eyebrow raised as she's watching me out of her peripherals. I focus on scrubbing the bowl in my hand. 

"Ooh," she teases. "Is it a secret?"

"Nothing. Went to get some coffee and ran some errands."

She drops the subject, and I ask what she did, releasing the breath I didn't realize I was holding. She tells me about her day, and I know I should be paying attention, but I'm not. 

Later that night, I find Aerith sitting on the couch, her phone in her hand. The look on her face makes me nervous. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting on the chair next to her. 

"Did you get coffee with Tara yesterday?"

I tell her, yes, and her jaw drops incredulously. She's angry. I know this because she laughs loudly, as in disbelief, and stares at me. 

"You lied to me," she enunciates. 

"I didn't lie to you," I say. 

"Well, you didn't tell me! Jesus, with the fucking semantics, Cloud! You kept it from me."

"I didn't keep anything from you intentionally. I'm sorry."

Aerith asks how she's supposed to trust me. She turns on her heel, her fists clenched as she heads for the front door. She's running again. I won't let her. I call after her, and there's more anger in my voice than I intended. She can't keep running from me. I grab her wrist harder than I need to. I spin her around as her fingers are already around the doorknob. I slam the door shut with my free hand and press her hard against the door. She's mere inches from me, and I feel her warm breath on my lips. I feel her thigh pressed against me. Her eyes are heated. Her body flush and tense against mine. 

"Don't run," I whisper. My lips brushing hers. Tilting my head, I pull her face towards mine hungrily, and she releases a loud gasp. Our lips are urgent, and our tongues meet quickly, and her hands move to remove my belt. I fist the ends of her dress behind her, shoving my fingers into her underwear and grabbing her hard. She pulls away, my lips falling to her neck, and she gasps for air. I'm hard now, and her underwear is thin, and I can feel how wet she is against the front of my boxers. I push against her to feel more, and I groan into her neck. She's gasping and panting so loudly. I'm almost concerned until I feel her soft, warm fingers around me. My palms are pressed against the door as she strokes me fast, and I think I might come in her hand if she keeps going, so I move her hand away and carry her to our bed. Bending over to pull my pants off the rest of the way, Aerith is completely naked by the time I look up. Her hair disheveled. Her eyes still heated. Her chest heaving. Her wrist marked from my grasp. 

"Tell me to stop, okay?" I breathe. She nods and leans back on her forearms, biting her bottom lip, she spreads her legs wide, and I'm almost running until I drop to my knees between her legs, I wrap my arms beneath her knees and pull her towards the end of the bed. My mouth is on her and my tongue is inside her. She moans and curses and pulls her knees together when I lick the entire length of her and thrust two fingers inside her and suck harder. Glancing up at her, she's watching me, and I know she loves to watch me, and I love it when she watches me. I curl my fingers again, and she bucks into my mouth. I press my hand against her hipbone to hold her still, but she's still shivering and convulsing. She moans my name over and over, and she still has no idea what she does to me. She's begging me now. Her arm thrown over her eyes, her back arched. I give her one more lick and wipe my fingers on the comforter. Pulling my shirt off, I sit back on my heels and flip her over on her stomach, and she moves to her knees. I grab her ass hard and listen to her muffled moans and whines. Her reaction gives me all the confidence I need, so I spank her once and run my tongue across the length of her again, and she screams and topples down. I grab her hips and keep my tongue inside her, and she's squirming uncontrollably under me. She's so wet I can barely handle it. Standing behind her, I thrust into her hard. She whimpers and moans my name, pulling herself back up to her knees and arching her back. 

"Harder - don't stop! Please!" She begs. I must have gotten about ten thrusts in before I came inside her. We're both panting hard as I kiss her bare shoulder blade and fall beside her. She turns to face me, her cheek red and imprinted from the comforter. 

She chuckles breathlessly. "I'm happy I didn't run."

"Promise me you won't," I say, grabbing her fingers and pulling them to my lips.

"If you do that every time I won't." She teases.

"I'm serious, Aerith. Please don't keep pushing me away. I want you to talk to me when you're upset. I don't want you to keep running." 

"Okay. I promise."

**AERITH**

Ever since the first night I slept with Cloud, he's always had nightmares. Sometimes they wake him up, but not always. Usually, just my arms around his waist is enough to bring him back to me. If I wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I double-check he's not having a nightmare. Sometimes he wakes up while I'm gone. His screams terrify me, but I don't tell him this. The worst night was when I came back from the bathroom to find him sitting up, rocking, his arms tight across his chest, releasing these choked breaths. I ran to him and held his face in my hands. He wasn't back, I could tell. I didn't see anything but fear in his eyes. I whispered his name over and over. The rocking stopped, and he smiled at me, pressing his fingers to my cheeks. 

"Are you real?" He asks me.

The next morning, while he's pouring us coffee, I ask him what he's been having nightmares about. His back is turned to me, but I see his entire body stiffen. He tells me he's been having nightmares about watching me die. He has these dreams every night. I hate that he didn't tell me this earlier. I hate that he's been suffering through this alone. 

I start going with him to doctors' appointments. After countless medications, some with horrible side effects, and being hypnotized three times, he tells me he doesn't have them as often now, and I believe him. 

\--

"You just need to call her and apologize," Mara tells me. 

"Apologize for what? I didn't do anything wrong. They're the ones who should be apologizing to me!"

She stops and drops her hip. "You threw a wine bottle at her boyfriend's head and kneed him in the balls."

"So? I would do it again!" We both laugh. 

Tara stops coming out with us. Cloud told me about the bruises on her wrist. I wanted to call the police, but I didn't. I hope she's okay. 

Mara and Ryder fight a lot, ever since the wedding kiss incident. We're sitting at a high top in a noisy bar watching while Mara accuses Ryder of looking at another girl. Margot's resting her chin in her hands, Denise is playing on her phone with a frown on her face, and Cloud's face is screwed up, and his eyes open wide when Mara starts screaming. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head against his shoulder.

"Do you think we'll ever be as happy as them?" I ask.

Cloud snorts loudly, his shoulders shaking. He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head, whispering, "not a chance," into my hair. Mara and I stumble to the bathroom after a couple of Jameson shots and a few rum and cokes. Mara falls to the side of the toilet, and we snort and laugh as I try to lift her. 

"Do you ever feel lonely, even when you're not alone?" Mara asks sadly, standing to her feet.

I frown and raise an eyebrow waiting for her to continue. 

"It's like I look at him, and I feel nothing. He loves me. I know he does. But I'm not sure I love him anymore. I want to, I really do. I'm just not sure how to." Her voice cracks and my heart breaks for her. 

"Have you ever felt that way with Cloud?" She asks. 

I shake my head slowly, watching her pull her lips in and closing her eyes tightly. 

"Of course, you haven't. You two have been in the honeymoon phase for forever now," she teases, rolling her eyes. 

"We have problems, but I still love him enough to work on them. I still love him enough to care. Our relationship is far from perfect, but I think we're better people when we're together, you know?" I slur. 

"I don't care if I fix anything with Ryder," she whispers. 

"Then I think you're with the wrong person," I say. 

She nods as tears stream down her cheeks. She must know. She needed to hear it from someone else. She needed to hear it out loud. She needed to release those thoughts into the world. 

Stumbling back out to the table, four girls are crowded around Cloud, one of them with her hand on his shoulder. They tell us that it's a bachelorette party, which is more than evident with the "Bride to Be" sash and the obnoxiously short dresses. Cloud smiles at me as the drunk girl falls against him. He stands to help her balance, and she throws her arms around his neck, and I want to scream. But I don't because I know this means nothing to Cloud. No one says anything, and the girls offer to buy us shots. 

Two shots later, we wish them well and congratulations, and just as the girl pulls herself from Cloud and stumbles away, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard. I turn to look at the girl who's scowling now. The bar's clearing out, and Cloud and Margot are having trouble sitting up at the high tops. Denise suggests going to another bar, and Margot and Cloud gasp and jump up and out the door. The rest of us follow behind as Cloud yells to Margot to wait and comes back and grabs my hand and drags me towards the door. 

I love drunk Cloud. I love him in any state, but drunk Cloud makes me laugh a lot. The cold air makes it hard to breathe, but Margot and Cloud have spotted a small clearing across the street. Cloud pulls on my hand and gasps dragging me across the street. He and Margot fall back into the snow, moving their arms and legs up and down. Cloud tells me to join him, so I do. 

"You know you're me when you're drunk," I tell him. 

"But, I'm me," he slurs. 

"I mean, you _act_ more like me when you're drunk."

"Would you like me better that way?"

"No. I want you just the way you are."

He rolls to his side to face me, his smile fading. 

"You don't think I'm hopeless?" He whispers. 

The look in his eyes makes me want to cry because I've been so selfish worrying about me and my feelings for Cloud, I never realized how sad Cloud is. Rolling him on his back, I climb on top of him and press my fingers to his chilled red cheeks, pressing my forehead to his. I need to focus on Cloud now. Because I never want to see this look on his face. He's done everything for me. Always comforting me and following me across cities. What have I done for him? I kiss the tip of his nose and whisper, "never."

Weeks later, Cloud and I lie in bed as I plant kisses and blow raspberries into his bare chest. 

"So, I was thinking," I say, resting my chin on my arms, settling on his chest, "before we find a house and start a family, we should travel." 

"You wanna travel?" He asks, rubbing my shoulders. 

"I think we should go everywhere we want to go. What do you think?"

"I would follow you anywhere."

We sublet the apartment to a new couple, who seems very happy, and their large cat. We pack our things and leave them in a storage unit. We book tickets across the country, say goodbye to our friends, unsure when we would return. We've slept in airports and hostels. We've made love in five-star hotel suites, and fell asleep under the stars. I've never been happier in my entire life. I've taken hundreds of pictures by now. Ones we will probably never look at again. Traveling with someone is very different than living with them. Cloud grows frustrated when I leave my bags out, and he trips over them, or if I'm running late. He gives me an irritated look and huffs softly.

Sitting outside a café at a small table, Cloud blows on his coffee, lowers his sunglasses, and ruffles his hair. A waitress checks on us, and I roll my eyes because I can't help but notice she's flirting with Cloud a lot. But Cloud being Cloud could not possibly be more clueless and oblivious. I rub my foot against his after the waitress leaves, and he looks up at me, smiling. 

"Are you happy?" I ask him. 

"Of course. Are you?" He asks. 

I watch a young couple walk by. The mother walks alongside a small boy, her hand holding his tiny fingers. The father has a young girl on his shoulders. He tickles her shins as she giggles away. I frown, looking back at Cloud, who's watching me curiously. 

"Almost," I say.

**CLOUD**

It's been two years since we left. We still talk to everyone often. I lift Aerith's bag out onto the curb as we wait for a taxi to the airport from the hotel. We returned home once, for Mara and Ryder's wedding. Aerith told me about her conversation with Mara in the bathroom, and I watch as Mara and Ryder smile and laugh together, exchanging vows and placing rings on each other's fingers. I wonder if any of it is real. I wonder if Mara started loving him again. Anyway, Ryder called us last week. They have a baby boy now. 

"This is an eight-bedroom, nine and a half bath."

Aerith and I look at each other as our realtor walks towards the front door of a large colonial style home, craning our necks to see the roof. Aerith smiles wide at me and shrugs. At this point, I've lost count of how many houses we've looked at.

Honestly, I never minded our small one-bedroom apartment. It's close to our friends. It's in the heart of downtown, and everything is within walking distance. Aerith doesn't clean, and I don't much care for it, so as we're touring each room, I take in the high ceilings and intricate details of each large room and am suddenly overwhelmed. Of course, we could hire cleaners, but honestly, I still feel like a bit of a fraud buying expensive things, and every time I look at my account, I think of my mother. Like every dollar spent, I'm losing another piece of her. 

Aerith volunteers at group homes often. She brings the kids flowers and baked goods and plays games with them. I know she loves it because she tells me all about it when she comes home, her eyes squinted from smiling so big. She'll be an amazing mother. I have no doubt about that. Me on the other hand, I still wonder why she wants children with me. I don't know much about kids, and I've certainly never spent much time with kids, and without ever trying to, I usually end up scaring them. 

"I like your hair," a small girl at the orphanage tells me, and she reminds me of Aerith. The boy next to her laughs behind his hand and says it looks silly. The small girl shoots him a look and scolds him for making fun. I wonder if this is what Aerith would have been like as a child. Stopping playground fights and sticking up for the scrawny kid. But she never had the option to do this. She's kneeling on the floor with a small girl draped over her back, her tiny fingers curled around Aerith's neck as she plays a board game with the small group of children around her. 

When the realtor asks us what we think, I turn to Aerith and shrug, waiting for her final decision, she scrunches her nose up at me, and we shake the realtor's hand, making our way back to our car and crossing this one off the list. 

"What are you looking for exactly?" I ask her. Honestly, most of these houses look the same to me, and I don't care much where we end up. 

"Not sure. But we'll know it when we see it!" She tells me, squeezing my shoulder. 

We order takeout and eat next to each other on the floor of our apartment, our backs against the couch. Aerith's lo mein noodles hang off her chopsticks, her mouth full, while she shows me a house she likes on her phone. I like looking at houses. I like thinking about the families that lived there before us. I wonder if they were happy. I wonder why they left. It's been sixty-two days since we started looking at houses. I'm seated in the back of the realtor's car as we drive to the next showing. She and Aerith are animated when they talk. I don't mind. I listen quietly in the back, staring out the window.

"Hey, what's this?" I ask, pointing out the window to my right. 

A battered for sale sign stands sadly in front of acres of tall weeds and grass. The realtor stops the car as we all step out. 

"This land has been for sale for years. I think some construction company has been in the talks of buying it out to turn it into condos," the realtor tells us. Aerith's hands are clasped behind her back as she steps through the tall grass. 

"Hey! Please, be careful, Aerith," I call after her. 

"Aren't I always?" She winks at me, glancing over her shoulder. My eyes are following the short hairs sticking up off her high ponytail, as the realtor snickers behind me. 

"She sure is a handful, isn't she?" She asks. I nod, and she continues talking about the land. 

"It would be a lot of work. A lot of money. Probably not even worth the investment." There's a sizable windmill nearby, abandoned long ago, its rudders still creaking as the wind picks up. Aerith emerges from the tall grass with a grin on her face, her hands clasped over her chest. Her eyes are wide as she nods once to me. The side of my mouth lifts involuntarily, and I nod back. 

"We'll take it!" Aerith yells, barreling towards me and quickly wrapping her arms and legs around me. Tripping backward, my hands on her waist to steady myself. She grabs my face in her hands, her eyes darting back and forth between mine. 

"It's perfect," she whispers, her lips brushing mine. "This is it."


End file.
